The Perfect Soldier
by mwuh-awesome
Summary: When Alphonse got his body back, he became sick… really sick and the medicine needed to cure him is expensive, far too expensive for Ed; a mere major. The solution? Get himself a promotion. Become the perfect soldier, no matter the personal cost. For Al. Full summary inside. RoyxEd in later chapters, Brotherly!EdxAl.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't do author notes very often, so please read this one.**

Summary: When Alphonse got his body back, he became sick… really sick. The medicine needed to cure him is expensive, far too expensive for Ed; a mere major. Completely distraught, Ed seeks out Mustang who comes up with the perfect solution-get himself a promotion. Now Ed, possibly the worst solider in the history of Amestris, has to transform into the perfect military man. Even if he loses himself along the way… he has to do did. For Al.

Pairings: RoyxEd, Brotherly!EdxAl

Warning: Forced OOC

Okay, this _will_ have some OCs, but their just there to help move the plot forward, not to hook up with anyone or anything. This is mainly Ed-centric though (with Roy, Havoc, Al ect) but, being realistic, the entire military will know who Ed is and the entire military is not in Brotherhood.

This does not start as soon as Al gets his body back; it starts later on in the summary you all (hopefully) read.

In the anime Brigadier Generals were simply called Generals (at least I think…), so that is what I am going to do. Edward is a Brigadier General here, meaning he has his own team (like a squad) like Mustang. I'm using the ranks based off of a Fullmetal Alchemist site I found. Also, the guys you see at the beginning here will probably pop up in later chapters, but they are not main characters in this story. EDIT: Okay, I lied… they kind of are. Well, Johnson is.

Normal disclaimer apply.

Now that that is over, on with the story!

* * *

_Don't look up, just let them think_  
_There's no place else you'd rather be_

_You're always on display_  
_For everyone to watch and learn from_  
_Don't you know by now? You can't turn back_  
_Because this road is all you'll ever have_

_-Fences by Paramore  
_

* * *

"Seriously," Johnson whined to Anderson as he sat down at his table in the Mess Hall, "have you _seen_ the list of errands the General gave me?"

"Which General?" asked Bruno, as he joined the two.

"Who do you think?" Johnson said forlornly.

"Elric?"

"Elric."

"Its like he's trying to kill us!" Bruno exclaimed.

"Asshole, just wants a promotion," he agreed.

"Damn straight that's all he wants! Probably been trying to get into the Higher up's good books since he enrolled!"

"Whoa now, that's a bit rough. I heard he joined up when he was _twelve_," interrupted Anderson, finally joining in the conversation.

"Hey, I wouldn't put it past him."

"Yeah, have you seen the man? He's a complete work-a-holic."

"Its like he's not even human!"

"And if we have so much as a hair out of place, he _freaks_ out."

"Okay!" Anderson cut in, "I get it! You don't like him! But the way the guys around here act towards him… it's just a bit extreme, you know?"

"Have you ever met him?" Johnson asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well… no…"

"Then you have no say in this," he snapped. Both Bruno and Johnson had turned to look at the third member of their group, their eyebrows furrowed and there jaws set. Anderson, seeing a lost cause when he saw one, raised his hands in a metaphorical sign of surrender and said quickly, "Hey! I get it, I was just trying to get you two to give this guy a break."

"_A break_-" Bruno started.

"Ok, ok! You guys are the experts; I've never met him! Just… try stay open minded. Give him a chance," Anderson cut in.

"Why?" Johnson said, leaning back in his chair, "He's never given any of us one."

Anderson shrugged and looked strangely uncomfortable at the question, "In my experience, people usually have a reason to act as harsh this guy sounds to be."

"Whatever," Bruno scoffed. And, with that final word, the subject was changed.

* * *

Ed's POV

"I must say, Brigadier General, at first I wasn't too sure about you, but you are quiet amazing."

"Yes, the way you whip those Privates into shape! You don't take any crap, I like that about a solider."

"Never seen a more efficient man."

"Definitely. Good work, Elric."

"Thank-you, sirs," I said to them, flashing the smile I had perfected after hours in front of the mirror. "Your support means a lot."

The four officers (the ones that had called out to me as I passed them in the hallway, each much higher on the food chain than myself) grinned at me.

I hated all of them. They didn't actually _like_ me. Not for who I was as a person, anyway. I was useful to them. I kept the younger and lower soldiers in line and if you had a job for me, I got it done as fast as I possibly could. I was, in their eyes, the perfect solider.

That was why at each complement and political comment they gave I had to bite my tongue to stop the younger, truer me from lashing out with some insulting comment that would, no-doubt, get me fired. That wouldn't work for long though. I could feel it; my patience was waning.

"I'm sorry if this sounds impolite of me, sirs," I said smoothly, "but I really should be going," I gestured to the heavy stack of paperwork in my arms, "I have a lot of work to do and I've been gone for a good half hour; I don't like leaving my team unmanned."

"How very prudent of you, General," the closest man to me praised.

"That's our Elric," the man next to him smiled, "Business first, a very good quality in a solider."

"And I must agree," said the man across from the first, "leaving soldiers unattended is just like _asking_ them to procrastinate."

"Well, then," the last one interrupted the others constant dribble. "We shouldn't keep you."

"Dismissed, sirs?" I asked.

"Dismissed," he said.

I saluted them all keenly before refastening my papers and racing down the corridor, least one of them changed their mind.

As I walked, I was half-tempted to keep my head down and refuse to look at any of the other military officers I passed but I knew I couldn't. Those of higher rank were behind me, watching me retreat. Now that I had the perfect chance to further improve my reputation I just _couldn't_ pass it up. So instead of running down the corridor back to the safety of my office, I slowed my walk to a confident swagger. I threw my head back proudly and made sure to look each person I passed in the eye. I somehow managed to survey dominance over each of them (as each was of lower rank) and look as though I was looking down my nose at them; even though I was shor- I wasn't their height. Not short! Just… not as tall.

I hated how each would shrink back from my gaze and lower their eyes. I made sure to portray nothing of this though, and instead displayed the Mustang-like smirk that had made me so freaking _mad_ in the past. I was sure that was how each passing person felt when they looked at me.

That didn't matter though. I had worked so hard to become Brigadier General, I couldn't throw it all away for a few unkempt emotions.

"_Look _at him," I heard one person say to his companion, a Sergeant, as I passed. The Major obviously thought he was being quiet.

"I know! He's so full of it!" she, the Sergeant, agreed.

"I honestly don't know how he lives with himself," he replied.

I know the girl had said something back to the Major but I had stepped too far away to hear it.

I ignored their words, and continued on.

I lifted my chin a little higher and smirked a little wider on the outside, but on the inside I felt wounded by their words.

How _did_ I live with myself?

Alphonse. That was my automatic response. I lived for Alphonse. He was all that mattered.

So I kept walking. I would continue with my insults and continue sucking up to those I hated.

For Alphonse.


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: Forced OOC, implied slash and some tears. Poor Edo *glomps*

* * *

J_ust what we all need _  
_More lies about a world that _

_Never was and never will be _  
_Have you no shame? Don't you see me? _  
_You know you've got everybody fooled_

_-_Everybody's Fool by Evanescence

* * *

Ed's POV

I awoke; face down on my hard desk, with a horrible crick in my neck. I stretched, wincing when I felt bones cracked.

Damn, fell asleep. I hadn't even managed to finish my paperwork. I picked up my pen once more, ignoring my burning eyes, and began to try and finish what I had started. Half of it wasn't even mine; I sometimes agreed to do Higher Up's work to get in their good books. My only relief was that there was no Al at home to worry… but even then that thought made me feel worse, made me want to work even harder. Al was currently at the local hospital (admittedly, not the best and not the one I wanted him at) after his health had taken a nose-dive sometime last week.

Suddenly the door swung open, and one of my team walked in. The man froze when he saw me, his eyes darting towards the door, a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression caught on his face. He obviously hadn't expected anyone to be in the office this early.

"Um, G-General," he stuttered, "um… good morning."

"Good morning," I replied formally.

There was an awkward pause. The man, a Major, swallowed nervously, I could practically see him shaking in his boots.

"Um… dismissed, s-sir?" he said, his voice almost inaudible.

I nodded curtly and watched as he fled the room. Seemed like my team was still scared of me.

(((TIME-SKIP, 30 MINUTES)))

My grip on the bathroom sink was painfully hard. I stared into my eyes within the mirror, taking deep breathes to steady myself.

It was all right, I told myself, everything would be all right. The hospital would take care of Al… and I was well liked by the Higher Up's, I would get the money.

I would get the money that was needed…

My grip tightened even further, my breath became uneven.

It was all right. I would get the money, I had enough money… everything was okay; everything would be all right.

My throat constricted and I felt tears blur my eyes. It was all right… everything would-god damnit!

I saw my fist smashed the mirror, but I didn't feel it. I saw the glass break, saw shards pierce the skin, saw blood drip down my hand and flow from my hands. But I didn't feel it.

All I could only think about was how things _weren't_ okay. How things _weren't _going to be all right. And how the _hell_ was I going to get all of that money?

Somewhere at the back of my mind I registered someone prying my hand off the sink and the other off of the mirror. The same person gripped my shoulders and pulled me into an embrace and wiped the tears from my face.

"Shh," the person whispered, and I was too far submerged in tears and overwhelming emotions to recognize the voice, or to push them away, "I'm here. Your okay."

"B-but," I choke out, "what if s-s-someone-"

"Havoc and Heymans are guarding the door."

And then there was nothing more I could do except let the unshed tears fall.

(((TIME-SKIP. 3 HOURS)))

"Yes?" I ask, turning to see a Lieutenant from my squad, "Can I help you?"

He approached me, seeming unruffled. It wasn't something I had seen in a while but it was nice, refreshing almost. It reminded me of when I was younger and the officers would talk down to me, patronize me rather than stutter and fumble of their words as everyone did now days.

"I just have the papers you wanted," he said, "and I couldn't give them to you before…" the man seemed to have more confidence then the rest, as he continued on to say, "Sir, if its not too bold of me to ask… where were you?"

"Pardon?"

"Um," the Lieutenant seemed to almost shrink under my hardened gaze, "well, you were missing for a couple of hours, sir, and, well, I was just wondering-"

"Why, yes," I snatched the papers from his hands, "that _is _too bold and unless you want to find yourself court martialed, I would advise you not to stick your unwanted nose into other people's business in the future."

"Oh, s-sorry-"

Before the man had the chance to properly stutter out an apology, I had already turned and walked away.

I have to admit, I felt bad for the guy. Someone was finally gaining some confidence (against me anyway) and I had to cut him down like that.

But I had to, I reminded myself. I couldn't risk anyone finding out about… I felt my cheeks flush as I remembered. Gate, why did I have to breakdown in front of _Mustang_ of all people? How humiliating…

"Good afternoon, Elric," Major General Samson said as I passed, "How are you today?"

I paused, hesitating a moment, before smiling widely to him, "I'm fine, sir," I lied, "I'm just… fine."

* * *

I hate the ending to this chapter… Its rather rushed but …*shrug*


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Once again, Ed is referred to as Brigider General_ and _General in this. This is because a shortened term for Brigider General is simply General. Just thought I'd point that out.

To everyone who has reviewed this story or has favourite/alerted it, thank you. And thanks to Shizuku Tsukishima749 for being an amazing Beta!

* * *

_They taped over your mouth_  
_Scribbled out the truth with their lies_  
_You little spies_

_They taped over your mouth_  
_Scribbled out the truth with their lies_  
_You little spies_

-Crushcrushcrush by Paramore

* * *

Johnson ignored the curious looks his brilliant blue uniform earned him, brushing past the receptionist as he continued deeper into the hospital. The rooms of the sick, wounded, elderly, and the many people visiting them were left behind without much regard.

Civilians weren't his concern at that moment. _Anderson_ was.

The idiot had been transferred to Brigadier General Edward Elric's division two days ago, and already he'd managed to get himself in trouble. They'd been chasing a gang leader this morning when Anderson had been shot three times, so determined to get the scumbag he didn't breathe a word of it and probably wouldn't have if Johnson hadn't noticed something was off. Proud, reckless bastard…!

He was still breathing, though, and that was all the General would care about. As far as Johnson knew, the man wasn't even aware of the incident, though after working with him for eighteen months his subordinate could say from experience that his commanding officer wouldn't ca—

Or maybe Johnson was wrong. For there, head lolling gently to the side as he sat in one of the hard plastic chairs in front of the critical illness ward, was General Elric.

"Sir?" he addressed carefully, quietly, as though his leader would vanish if too startled. Elric's eyes fluttered open slowly, and Johnson realized the man had been asleep. The blond lifted his head and looked around confusedly before finally spotting his underling.

"Regan?" he asked sleepily, shocking Johnson. He hadn't been aware Elric even knew he existed, let alone knew his _first_ name! First names were completely ignored in the military, reserved only for those who had known each other for an extensive amount of time or were very close. His commanding officer would have had to pay special attention to him and actually acknowledge him on a day-to-day basis...something Johnson could _not_ picture him doing.

"Sir…" he repeated, swallowing unconsciously when Elric's eyes lost their sleep-infected dullness and began to sharpen, "…I wasn't aware you knew about Corporal Anderson."

"Brett Anderson?" the smaller man sputtered, jerking upright to perch on the edge of his seat. "What happened to him? Is he okay?"

This threw Johnson for even more of a loop and raised several questions. If the General knew his and Anderson's first names, then how many others' did he know? And if he weren't here to visit Anderson, then what was his reason? The last and most prominent question made his eyebrows furrow further: why did Elric _care_ if Anderson were okay or not?

"S-sir…the gang leader we attempted to arrest this morning shot Anderson three times."

"_What_?" This time, Elric jumped right out of his seat. "Will he live?" His hand flew to grip his subordinate's sleeve out of worry. "Please don't tell me he won't!"

Johnson's eyes flicked to the point of contact, but ultimately let it go in favor of answering. "I think the doctors have him on some pretty heavy drugs right now. As far as I know, sir, they're pretty sure he'll make it."

Elric released the other man and slumped back into his seat, murmuring a soft "Thank goodness…!" under his breath.

The underling checked his watch, mainly to avoid looking directly at his boss, before gesturing awkwardly to the hallway in front of them. "I—I should probably go see him…"

The General very nearly made a move to join him, but changed his mind at the last minute. Gazing down at his still-uniformed lap, he avoided his subordinate's eyes in kind. "You go ahead…" he whispered softly. "I'm sure the Corporal doesn't want to see his commanding officer right now."

While knowing Elric wouldn't see it, Johnson nodded briefly and perhaps a little stiffly before going on his way, even when the General called at his retreating back, "Let me know how he is tomorrow at Headquarters!"

That was the first proper conversation Johnson had had with Brigadier General Elric, and the only word he could think of to describe it to Anderson was…_awkward._

"I told you," Anderson said weakly, smiling a bit from underneath a tangle of medical tubes. "He's not a bad guy."

* * *

Ed's POV

"Mr. Elric," a nurse said, "you can see your brother now."

Thanking her automatically, I rushed into the room. In the bed in front of me lay a stranger. Tubes jutted out from the boy's wrists and mouth, and sunken, bruise-like circles rimmed his eyes. His cheekbones were just visible, and his arms were even worse, the skin stretched so far over the bones that it looked as if it would rip at the slightest movement. The nurses and doctors hadn't been able to get any food to sit right with him as of late, and it was showing more than ever today.

I shouldn't have been able to recognize that tired, sickly face, but I did anyway. He was my baby brother…my little Al…and it hurt so much to see what he'd been reduced to because of me.

"_Brother_!" the child rasped through cracked lips. "You came!"

"Of course, Al," I answered, taking up residence in my usual chair by his bedside. "I always come when you need me."

He seemed hesitant to say his next words, but at my reassuring smile, he muttered, "You… you didn't come yesterday…or the day before that..."

I took his hand in mine and ignored the stab of self-hate that shot through me. "I'm sorry. Work has just been busy, that's all."

"I understand, brother."

"I hope you didn't get too lonely," I told him softly, earnestly, trying to mask the growing despair in my words. Al was always sad when I was, so I refused to show any outward signs of it.

My plan seemed to work because Al brightened almost immediately. "Don't worry, I wasn't! I met a girl from the next ward over and spent the evening with her! She's really nice—"

"Is she cute?" I teased, not caring whether or not I sounded like a schoolgirl.

Al blushed as much as his body would allow. "We're not like that… We're friends."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! She's nice, and she has a cat! She showed me a picture!"

Al went on about the girl and her 'adorable' cat, smiling as much as he was able. I listened raptly, nodding and replying when needed. My little brother seemed happy as he talked, but I could see an underlying sadness and hopelessness in his once-lively eyes.

And that…everything about this…just…_hurt_…

Still, somehow, I kept the pain and tears at bay throughout the night.


	4. Chapter 4: Filler

I know, I know, I know. I need to upload a new chapter on Forcing Normalcy but... I just love this story! Its freaking me out. I can't actually think about Ed without thinking about General Elric and it is _pissing me off_.

*breathes deeply* Anyway, please enjoy this (ridiculously short) chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Chapter is Unbeta-ed. My Beta is currently very busy and I don't want to pile fics onto her.

* * *

Ed felt as though his heart was going to burst at any moment. He felt like grinning and jumping and shouting his news from the rooftops. As he jumped, practically _skipped, _to the former Colonel's office, his larger-than-life grin attracted bewildered looks and concerned glances from the soldiers around him. At the sight of him, everyone wrongly assumed that he had killed someone or just gotten another promotion, and that was why he, being the tyrant that he was, was so deliriously happy.

Did Ed care that everyone was further slandering his imagine with false accusations? Hell no! Today, nothing could kill his happiness.

He bounced into the office when he reached it. He ignored the astonished looks everyone shot him and quickly exclaimed, '_Al's cured!'_

The reaction was instant. The room erupted into shouts of happiness and congratulations that Ed was sure could be heard from the other side of Headquarters.

"Awesome!" Breda cried, jumping from his seat.

"Yesssssssssssssssssssssssss!" Havoc cheered, doing some sort of jig in his seat.

"We all knew that you'd do it!" Furery shouted over everyone.

"Good for you, Edward," Hawkeye said behind him, a small but genuine smile playing at her lips, "We're happy for you and your brother."

Mustang was last to greet him. The dark-haired man had raced from his desk to tackle Ed to the ground. "OHMIGOD, ED!"

"I know!" Ed shouted back into his ear, fighting the hysterical laugh that threaten to overwhelm him, "It's just – just - just so-"

"Great," Roy supplied, still hugging him as though he was afraid to let go.

"I was thinking more like… perfect."

When Roy finally let go and stood up, he extended his hand out to Ed, who was still grinning madly, to help him stand up.

"I'm going to hand my watch in tommor- mmmmh~!" Roy cut him off, attacking the shorter man's lips with his own.

"Gate, I love you," Roy breathed into their kiss.

"I lov-"

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Ed started at the sudden noise, bolting upwards, soaked in sweat.

"What was that?" he choked out, the world before him titling at the sudden movement. He glanced to the right where glowing red numbers that read 3:01 am sat on a little wooden table. His alarm clock continued to beep obnoxiously.

Right, he remembered, it was time to go to work.

Work, where people still hated him, Generals still praised him and Mustang still had to pretend to hate him. Work, where he had to go because Al was still sick.

It was times like this that Ed thought that he had to seriously have it out for himself.

Why else would he have dreams that made him cling to his sanity just to make sure it was still there?

The alarm clock beeped again and Ed groaned.

It was time for work.


	5. Chapter 5

*waves nervously* I am a bad updater, aren't I? Hehehe…

Well, as an apology here are _two _chapters. Enjoy and review. I'm not going to beg, but reviews are appreciated. (And help me update faster… *coughcough*)

I originally wrote this a few weeks ago when there was a massive storm going on down my end of our state. Hence my inspiration. I would have had this uploaded then but I wasn't happy with it and sent it off to my beta. She's been super busy and hasn't had a chance to touch it… I love her, but you guys would probably start sending me howlers (yes, I am a Harry Potter nerd) if I kept chapters away from you for any longer. *bows* I am sorry about that and I don't think I'll make you guys wait for the beta version anymore. (Not that I'm blaming my beta for my lack of updates! That's my fault... well, mainly.)

So here's wait I'm going to do. I'm going to upload the chapters after I've finished them and then when my beta's finished, I'll just replace the chapters with them. So I do apologize for any mistakes or spelling errors but I'm only (sadly) human. (EDIT: I no longer have a beta. Only one chapter of this story has been beta-ed so please forgive any errors you may come across).

**Please think of the last chapter as a filler. It has nothing to do with the plot line. This one does. Thankyou.**

* * *

_Who's to know if your soul will fade at all_  
_ The one you sold to fool the world_  
_ You lost your self-esteem along the way_

-Fake it by Seether

* * *

The first time Johnson saw Brigadier General Elric outside of work may have been awkward but the second time was just confusing.

A storm had passed through Central several weeks previous and, judging from its increasing wrath, it had no intention of leaving any time soon. It was fast and unexpected, causing devastation to the citizens all across the enormous city. Many trees were uprooted, outlying houses had their roofs blown clean off and the power had been off for weeks. Schools closed, businesses shut and people locked themselves inside, hoping for the best.

And where was Johnson amongst all of the chaos? Working. Damned military…

Headquarters, whilst it had been total mayhem at the beginning of storm, was almost abandoned. It was getting late, the sun having set hours ago, and many exhausted soldiers had already gone home. One of the officers under Brigadier General Elric's division (Dennis, Johnson remembered, the soldiers name was Dennis) had dumped his workload onto him when the man received a call about a tree falling on his house. At the news, Second Lieutenant Dennis had written a 30 second list, thrown it at Johnson and had practically flown out of Headquarters.

But it wasn't that bad; Johnson understood. He had his wife (god he loved saying that. Three months may have already gone by but the fact that he was married still sent happy thrills down his spine) and his little sister waiting for him in his apartment in town. If anything happened to either of them or his living place, he would be out of here as fast as he could.

Besides, he was just finishing up. The extra work didn't take him _that _long – ok, it did, but that was beside the point.

Johnson was just signing the last line on the very last document when the phone rang. Reaching across to the adjacent desk, he picked it up.

"Brigadier General Elric's office, Sergeant Johnson speaking," he answered politely.

"_Sergeant? It's Second Lieutenant Dennis. I just rang about the work I left you earlier."_

"I'm just finishing up now, sir."

"_That's great… but, um, I forgot to mention some papers General Mustang gave me. Do you think you could do them?"_

Despite the way the question was phrased, Johnson could tell it was an order. He signed heavily before replying, "Of course, sir."

"_Great! You're a lifesaver! The paperwork should just be on my desk."_

Johnson scanned the man's desk twice over before he said; "There's nothing on your desk, sir."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Suddenly the other officer swore and said, "_Geez, sorry kid. I think General Mustang has them at his house. Do… do you think you could head over there and grab them?"_

Another cleverly disguised order. "Of course, sir." Johnson answered, "What's his address?"

* * *

It was a weird sensation, Johnson thought uncomfortably, going to a superior's house after hours. It felt… _wrong _in a way, like Johnson was doing something he wasn't suppose to.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this, sir," Johnson apologized again.

"You've already said that," Mustang said, waving away his comment with a vague hand gesture, "Its fine. My fault for forgetting to bring those papers to HQ."

Johnson had always liked General Mustang. Years ago, his primary school teacher had told him fairytales of brave and fearless knights and fire breathing dragons. The self-sacrificing knight and powerful dragon inspired him and even influenced him latter in life when he decided to join the military.

After spending several months in the military dorms at the beginning of his career, he had learned that General Mustang was kind of like the knight and the dragon wrapped into one. Brave and fearless, the dragon battles onward, spitting fire and wielding a sword, determined to do anything to protect his loyal subordinates. The dark-haired man was the thing of legends. If only Johnson had a boss like that.

But no, he was stuck with _General Elric. _The one man that was about as far from brave, fearless and self-sacrificing as you could get. If anything, his blonde boss was more like the wicked witch that always played the villain in those stories than any other character.

"You shouldn't worry," Mustang said, "I won't take long. I'm sure you want to get back to your family."

Johnson nodded, "That would be nice. I'm…" he hesitated, unsure whether it was appropriate to discuss such things with a higher ranking officer. If his time with General Elric had taught him anything, it was that a person's private life was not a subject one should discuss with fellow military officers. Deciding that it wouldn't hurt, Johnson continued, "I just, I'm _worried._ I don't know if I'm going to go home and find my apartment destroyed."

"What suburb do you live in?"

"Willow, sir."

"You shouldn't worry," Mustang said, repeating his earlier words, "Willow is fine. Trees and power lines are down all over Central but the only place that was really affected, besides the outlying houses, was Mangrove." **(1)**

"Really?" Whenever Johnson thought of Mangrove he always felt as though he had a foul taste in his mouth. Mangrove was dingy, dank and downright poor. The place had higher crime rates than anywhere else in the Central (Johnson wouldn't be surprised if it had the highest rates in the entire _country) _and most people who lived there usually ended dead, in jail or a member of some sort of gang.

"Yep," Mustang nodded, "Extreme flooding, no power, roof's half blown off… its pretty rough. Ah!" he finally cried when he pulled out several papers from the draw he had been digging through. "Here," Mustang thrust the paperwork out in front of him so that Johnson could take them. "The other half are somewhere upstairs. Just stay here while I go get them."

Johnson took the papers and Mustang disappeared upstairs.

Being at his superior's house after hours may have been weird, but being _alone _at his superior's house after hours was nerve-racking.

Looking around nervously, he shuffled over to the dinning room table-

"Al."

Johnson froze. He didn't move for several moments as he strained his ears for any more noise. Did he imagine it?

"Al… "

No, the noise was there but he wasn't aware that Mustang had any other family. Who was it that was speaking?

"Al… Alphonse!"

The person sounded as though they were in distress. Johnson wondered if he should help them.

"Al!"

Following the sound of the noise, Johnson found himself in Mustang's living room and there, curled up underneath a mountain of blankets on the couch, was-

"General Elric?"

* * *

"Brother!"

Ed was in a field. All around him plains of green grass stretched onward, seeming endless, broken only by golden sunflowers peeking over the edges of its long blades. He recognized the place; in Resembool he and Al used to play there in the summer.

"Brother!"

That was his little brother's voice but Ed couldn't see him. Where was he?

"Brother, here! I'm over here!"

No, Ed was alone in the field. Even as he spun on his flesh feet (were was his automail?) all he could see was a sea of grass and flowers, extending as far as the eye could see. "Al," he called out into the silence.

"Brother, come! I'm right here!"

"Al…" no one appeared in the field.

"Please… you have to find me. Please, brother, I need you!"

"Al," Ed whispered. Walking forward he still saw no sign of the younger boy. "Alphonse!" he called.

"Brother! Brother, _please!" _Al began to sound frantic, his (disembodied) voice high-pitched as he shrieked in fear.

Ed broke out into a run, moving as fast as his bear feet would allow.

"Brother! Ed!"

"Al!" he shouted. The field continued onward with no end in si-

"General Elric?"

Regan Johnson? But… what was his subordinate doing in Resembool? He felt the field shift and fade away, taking away the sound of his little brother's voice with it.

"I- oh my god, your asleep. Oops… um, I'll just go…"

Awaking, his eyes flickered open to be met with the sight of his brown-haired Sergeant fidgeting uncomfortably in the hallway.

The man looked stricken, casting nervous glances from him to doorway. It was obvious he was fighting the urge to bolt from the room.

"…Johnson?" he slurred, rubbing his eyes with his gloved hand.

"Your awake! Oh, um, sorry, sir, I didn't mean to wake you!" Johnson straightened up and snapped to attention, still looking as though he was fighting to urge to run from Ed's side.

"What are you doing in Resembool?" he asked, still half-asleep.

The taller man blinked at the unexpected question. "Pardon, sir?"

"What are you-" Ed cut himself off. His eyes focused properly of Mustang's living room and he felt himself blush at his mistake. "Oh… I was dreaming, wasn't I?"

"It appears so, sir."

When silence descended, there was a familiar sense of awkwardness between them, one almost identical to the one that had fallen almost a week ago at the local hospital. Much like that encounter, Johnson couldn't bring himself to look away from General Mustang's hardwood floors (last time it had been worn blue carpet that had caught his gaze) and towards his boss. Also like that time, Johnson had what felt like hundreds of questions he yearned to ask. But didn't (couldn't) ask in fear of invoking the shorter man's wrath and finding himself court martialled.

But the questions stayed and Johnson couldn't shake his burning curiosity. Why was Elric at General Mustang's? It wasn't as though he could pretend to be working or picking up papers like Johnson was. Why would he come to Mustang's to _sleep?_ Also; the brigadier general had disappeared around lunchtime and hadn't been seen since. Where had he been and what events led him to seek refuge at Mustang's place? And, oh god, was his boss seriously wearing something as casual as _jeans? _Johnson knew it was insane, but a part of him always envisioned General Elric as a sort of robot; never eating, never sleeping, having no family, friends or social life and never leaving headquarters. It was so stupid and he felt embarrassed at such thoughts, but the man just didn't seem… _human. _It made him wonder; what was the Brigadier General like outside of work? Did he even _have _a social life?

"Sergeant!" Mustang called from the stairs, "I found those papers!"

"Oh, that's good. Thank you, sir," Johnson called back before turning to the blonde half sitting, half lying awkwardly on the couch, "I have to go… I'll see you tomorrow, sir." Saluting sharply, he turned to leave.

Elric's voice stopped him before he could make it to the door. "Johnson?" he asked. "If… if I ask you something, will you answer honestly?"

Johnson replied without turning around. Curiosity welled up in him at the hesitant, unsure tone his boss had used. "Of course, sir."

"What is your opinion of Ro- _Mustang._ What is your opinion of General Mustang?"

Johnson pretended not to hear the slip. "He's a good man. Honest, caring, brave and always looking out for those around him... I like him."

He didn't expect a reply, but Johnson could have _sworn _he had heard General Elric murmur, "I'm glad my reputation hasn't ruined his," under his breath. But that couldn't be right, could it?

He felt the questions swell inside him. This whole situation was so bizarre that just he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "I like your jeans, sir," before continuing towards the front door.

When he reached it, Mustang handed him the paperwork he had come for. "You saw Elric?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"He's staying the night because his apartment has flooded. In fact, his whole suburb is practically underwater."

Johnson felt his brow furrow in confusion. "But, sir," he started as Mustang opened the door, "I thought you said that only Mangrove was affected!"

Mustang gave him a bitter smile. "I know," he said softly, "I did."

Johnson stood in the deserted hallway for what must have been at least ten minutes before he remembered how to work his legs.

"Honey?" his concerned wife asked when he returned home. "What's wrong?"

"Can you get the phone…" Johnson began slowly, his eyes still wide and his brow still creased. "I think Anderson and I need to have a serious chat…"

* * *

Yami: MIND CRUSH!

*coughcough* Sorry… it had to be said. That was what I was thinking when I wrote those last few lines.

**1)**: I've made up suburbs of Central for the purpose of this story. Basically, all the suburbs in town (like the ones Johnson, Roy and Ed lives in) are filled with apartments and stores and stuff. Follows the background pictures you see in Brotherhood. Mustang lives in the kind of rich, high ranking officer area, Johnson lives in an average area and Ed lives in the poorest area, where lots of crime and really bad, dodgy stuff goes on. Its all he can afford. Second Lieutenant Dennis lives on the out skirts of Central, where all of the houses (rather than apartments) are.


	6. Chapter 6

Johnson's phone call is _not _this chapter. In fact, he doesn't appear in this chapter at all. How do you guys feel about him? I know most people find OCs annoying and I wasn't even going to have any but… he just grew on me.

* * *

_Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me_  
_Lying on the floor surrounded, surrounded_  
_Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?_  
_Just a little late, you found me, you found me_

-You Found Me by the Fray

* * *

Al was getting worse.

Ed couldn't continue lying to himself, Al was getting sicker. The times his little brother could keep his eyes open were getting shorter and the hours between them were getting longer. He was becoming so frail that Ed was afraid of touching him in fear that he would break.

Without help, the doctors suspected he wouldn't last the week.

'There must be _something _you can do!' Ed had begged them. 'Please! Anything!'

As it turned out, there was something. It was a new kind of medicine, one that would leave his brother crippled for months on end but would, they told him, save Al's life. As the saying goes, sometimes before something got better, it had to get worst.

'But I warn you, the treatment is very expensive. And he'll have to be under critical care for about a month, so you won't be able to see him,' the doctor had told him.

'It doesn't matter,' Ed had replied, no hesitation in his voice. 'Where do I sign?'

Ed's pen danced across the page, signing document after document. His eyes were unwavering as he worked and, although most officers would be desperate for their break after the hours Ed had worked, his mind held no such conviction.

"You really do take this seriously, don't you?" a voice interrupted.

Without looking up from the paperwork, Ed said, "I have to, Roy."

"You don't _have _to-"

"Yes I do." The pen finally halted its furious pace and the blonde glanced up to the place his dark-haired superior was leaning. "You know I do so don't even start." He sighed and sat up straighter and stretched, ridding himself of several kinks that had worked there way into his back. "What do you want?"

"I have to want something just to visit my favourite shrimp?" Roy asked.

Ed didn't even blink. "Considering the perimeter of our current relationship, yes."

His joking manner left him and Roy slumped against the closed door. "Yeah," he whispered, his posture one of a defeated and beaten man. "Our relationship…"

Instead of answering, Ed steadied his expression and continued writing.

No one spoke for several moments until: "A new mission just came in. Both of our divisions are being sent to Eastern for a couple of weeks."

"What for?"

"Same as always," Mustang snorted. "To catch an insane, murdering alchemist."

"There's always at least one," the lame attempt at a joke was bitter and twisted and tasted like ash in Ed's mouth.

Silence descended once more. And, like before, Roy was the one to break it. "Ed…" Roy swallowed, his eyes flickering towards the closed door as he lowered his voice. "I'm worried about you. Your going to kill yourself if you kee-"

"Thank you for your concern, sir," Ed cut in tersely, his General mask sliding in place. "But I am fine."

"We both know that's not true," Roy said and approached the shorter man's desk. He laid his hands firmly on the desk as he attempted to stare his subordinate down.

Ed lowered his gaze and remained silent.

"At least go home," Roy said, his expression softening. "You've been at Headquarters for a solid 36 hours. You at least need to have a shower."

"I had one earlier in the barracks," Ed replied, still refusing to look Roy in the eye.

"Ed, go home."

"Why?" when Ed finally looked up, Roy was shocked (far more than he should have been) at the sadness he saw in those golden irises. "Its not as if there's anyone waiting for me there."

"Take a break; for me. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I won't." Ed cleared his throat and picked up his discarded pen. "But in the meantime, I have paperwork to complete."

"Ed…"

"Thank you for dropping by, sir, but I have work to do."

With nothing more to say (no more hope left to offer) Mustang left, the door clicking behind him.

For the briefest of moments, Ed's pen stopped and he felt tears well in the corner of his eyes. He firmly shut them, cursing himself furiously; this was no time to get emotional.

He took a deep steady breath and resumed working.

He had to do this - for Al.

* * *

Ed's blood felt as though it had frozen in his veins. His muscled tensed and suddenly he couldn't breath.

_No, _he thought, a feverish panic setting in, _this can't be possible._

But it was; the sudden phone call confirmed that.

"_Mr Elric?" _the nurse's voice on the other end of call asked. "_Mr Elric, are you still there?"_

He wasn't sure if he was. His vision swam as he fought to keep his breathing even. His sight blurred and he had to clutch his desk to stop himself from passing out.

"_Mr Elric?"_

Ed felt as though a part of him had died the moment those condemning words rang through the phone. What was he going to do now?

"_Mr Elric, please, talk to me."_

Al was never going to forgive him- he gave a strangled sob. Al. Oh god, _Al. _He was a failure. What had he done? No, what _hadn't _he done?

"_Sir, you're scaring me. Say something."_

Sobs consumed him as he lost his grip on his phone. It tumbled to the floor much as Ed did seconds later. Headquarters would be completely deserted at such a late hour and what a thankful fact. Barely able to place a shaky hand over his mouth to smother his cries, all Ed could think of was the news he had just been given.

There had been a miscalculation, the nurse had told him, for some reason the price he had been given for Al's medicine had been divided by 2. The real price was at least double the original one.

What was he going to do? He could barely afford the first price…

His sobs increased. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ed recognized the signs of a panic attack.

What was he going to do? What was he going to do? _What was he going to do?_

The last thing he heard before he lost himself to darkness was the creaking of his door as it swung open and the sound military issued boots made on his hard wood floors.

* * *

The beginnings of sunlight flittered through half closed curtains and onto the face of an awaking blonde. The office was silent as the man slowly sat up from his place on the couch.

Couch…?

An oversized (for him) military jacket was draped over Ed, obviously serving as a blanket. A note was placed next to his head.

_No one saw. _The note read. _And no one will know._

Flipping over the note, he saw it was a receipt for- his eyes widened. That was _a lot _of money.

Bringing the coat to his nose, he inhaled deeply and his eyes widened further. The (his) man hadn't… had he?

"Damned bastard…" Ed whispered softly to himself. "He never did know how to but out of other people's business."

* * *

Oh, Mustang, how I love you. (And Ed and Al and Hughes and Havoc and Hakweye and Breda and- *stops* …I'll shut up now.)


	7. Chapter 7

This may sound rather cruel but it was heaps of fun to write yelling!General Elric. Does that make me a bad person? Ha.

I've been tending to update The Peferct Soldier and then Forcing Normalcy but I can't be bothered… General Elric has latched onto my muse and doesn't seem to want to let go. So instead of a Forcing Normalcy chapter, you get a Perfect Soldier one.

So, here we go, the mission I mentioned in the last story comes into effect. Tell me what you guys think.

* * *

_And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

_-_Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

_One week later_

The train's whistle echoed throughout the station, catching soldiers' attention and pulling them from their families' sides and into carriages. The officers, the ones that had been selected for the mission, called out to each as they arrived and boarded the train, some looking excited, some anxious and others down right bored. The whistle sounded again and drowned out the sound of a man's hurried phone call.

"Yes, I'll remember," the blonde, Ed, said into the pay phone's cradle. He paused as the boy on the other end replied. "No, Al," Ed continued, "its nothing like that… you don- no, Al, seriously, listen to me… no, the only person you need to be concerned about is yourself-" the blonde was obviously cut off as his sentence dropped off abruptly. He waited for a moment but when he talked next, he seemed to almost be _glaring _at the phone "What do you think I'm going to do, huh? Go up to the guy with a giant target painted on my chest?" he paused again. "No, Al! I'm not that much of an idio-"

A third whistle pierced the air and Ed fumbled with the phone, swearing loudly.

"Crap!" he cried. "Al, I'm sorry! I have to go! Yeah… good luck with the operation, you'll do fine! I promise to be safe, yeah, okay, love you too. Bye!"

Practically throwing the phone back on the handle with one hand, he scooped up his battered suitcase with the other and took off towards the front of the train, which was already beginning to pull out of the station. He quickened his pace as the train gained speed, still swearing colourfully under his breath. He hiked his suitcase under his arm and full out bolted down the line.

"Boss!" a blonde head popped out of the train's window, a cigarette dangling from the officer's lips. "Hurry up!"

"I know," Ed snapped as he ran, "Gimme a hand, Havoc!"

Havoc disappeared from sight. Suddenly, the door attached to the window he had been standing at swung open. Hanging on tightly to the door's handle, he cupped a hand to his mouth and called, "Come on!" He extended an arm and hauled the shorter man onto the train just as it completely left the station.

"Thanks." Ed said thinly, puffing loudly as he breathed in giant grateful gulps of air.

"No problem," Havoc said, panting also. "Couldn't exactly let you be left behind, the General would kill me."

"Tch," Ed scoffed, "Bastard probably just doesn't want to be left to do all the work by himself. How lazy."

Havoc laughed and both of them new how much truth Ed's words lacked. Picking up the other man's battered suitcase, he started down the hall. "The Higher Ups' compartments are this way," he threw over his shoulder.

"Huh? Who else is coming?" Ed asked as he followed.

"You mean the General didn't tell you?"

Ed felt his shoulders slump, all previous spark leaving him. "Well, you know…" Ed started. Havoc almost dropped the suitcase at the sudden hate and bitterness the small voice had taken on. "Me and Mustang… we don't really, you know, _talk _any more."

Havoc nodded but did not reply. He knew the previous relationship the two alchemists had shared and the tragedy that had struck the younger Elric (and how could he _not _know about Ed's sudden transformation into the tyrant he was known as today?) but Roy had never personally spoken to his team about it. The men (and Hawkeye) had known it was bad, and had guessed about the pain it would bring them both but he had never personally _seen _it. This… this was heartache, pure and simple. Sympathy welled up inside him and Havoc had the sudden overwhelming want to turn around and envelop the shorter blonde in an Armstrong-like hug.

"So, um, you excited about the mission, boss?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah…" Ed's tone, whilst not his usual volume, was much louder than before as he said dryly. "Ecstatic."

"Ah, so I guess your as… _excited _as everyone else, then."

"Well, geez, what exactly is there to li- Hey!" Ed cut himself off with a sudden shout. The word bounced down the hallway, full of superiority and anger, making all of the soldiers in the hallway freeze. "What exactly do you think your doing?"

When Havoc turned, it took him a moment to realise Ed wasn't actually yelling at him. Fists clenched tightly at his sides, Ed's face was twisted up into an infuriated scowl, an angry red dusting his cheeks.

A young man, hardly even of age, sucked in a deep breath as Ed focused his golden-eyed stare on him. "I, um, I-I," he choked out. His eyes darted to his friends around him, blue eyes searching desperately for help. His companions took one look at Ed and backed away slowly, leaving the panicking man alone to face Ed's wrath.

"You know your not suppose to be down here, Private!" Ed snapped. "This area is off limits to everyone below a Lieutenant."

"Oh, um, s-sorry, sir," the poor boy stuttered. He made a grab for his bag but fumbled with the straps. The whole thing tipped over and the contents tumbled out, flying out to cover the entire hallway.

Ed's face grew redder and he took a threatening step forward. The Private, who was frantically trying to recollect his things, flinched violently at the movement. "Clumsiness is _not _acceptable in a soldier," he growled. "You three!" Ed spun around to face three unexpected Majors, who stood frozen in the threshold of an open compartment. "Help him pick everything up and then," he turned back to the shaking Private, "escorted this idiot back to where he's _suppose to be."_

There was a heavy pause. The onlookers, the ones that hadn't fled the scene, held their breath.

With an air of finality, Ed said, "Mess Hall duty. Three weeks."

Mess Hall duty was infamous for its severity. It included scraping off half eaten slop from trays, scrubbing the enormous room single handedly, washing piles upon piles of dishes and basically any and all chores the lunch ladies didn't want to do.

The Private at the center of the whole thing, lowered his gaze with a breathy, "yessir." His shoulders looked as though they were shaking and Havoc suspected that the man (boy) was crying.

"Hey, now," Havoc interrupted gently, "that's a bit harsh, isn't it, boss? It was just an accident."

The three majors that had bent down to help pick up everything, looked up at him as though he was crazy. When Ed turned to face him, Havoc could see one of them shaking his head frantically behind the older Elric's back, obviously more concerned about Havoc's safety than Havoc himself.

"Unless you want to be joining _him_," Ed hissed, jabbing a thumb at the still-shaking Private, "I suggest you _butt out, _Captain." (1)

Snatching his suitcase out of Havoc's hands, Ed spun on his heel and stomped down the hallway before disappearing into the other compartment.

"Are you insane?" one of the majors, the one that had shaken his head, asked once Ed was out of sight. "I'm surprised he didn't _kill_ you. You sure are one hell of a lucky guy."

"He wouldn't have done anything," Havoc said quietly. "Not to me, anyway."

Someone must have said something to this, but Havoc ignored it. Staring forlornly at the closed door where his blonde superior had stormed through, Havoc could only sigh heavily and wonder.

_What had happened to their Ed?_

* * *

(1): Somewhere in my timeline, Havoc got a promotion. He's now a Captain.

Reviews?


	8. Chapter 8

EDIT: I forgot to say this, but in this story Ed is 23.

* * *

_It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now  
There were moments of gold  
And there were flashes of light  
There were things I'd never do again  
But then they'd always seemed right_

_-_It's All Coming Back to me Now

* * *

"Do you realise," a voice drifted down the hallway, "on this train, I hold the highest rank. There's no need to act so tense."

Ed froze. A quick scan of the area deemed it to be empty of any unwanted soldiers so, as he dropped his suitcase and crossed his arms indigantly in front of his chest, he barked out an irate, "So?"

"_So, _that means there's no one to impress."

"There's no one to-" Ed started. He cut himself off and frowned, staring up (damn) at his dark-haired superior. "What the hell are you up to, Mustang?" he asked hotly.

"Call me Roy."

Ed's frown deepened. "Why?"

"Because," Mustang said, making sure to draw out his next words, overly stressing their meaning, "there's _no one to impress."_

"What are you talking about?" Ed hissed. "If you're going to risk people finding-"

"There's no risk!" Roy finally snapped, throwing up his hands. "For god's sake, Ed!"

"I don't…" Ed began before trailing off. After a pause, Mustang could swear he saw the metaphorical light bulb flash above the blonde's head. "Oh… are you suggesting what I think your suggesting?"

Roy stalked forward, picking up the discarded suitcase and grinning smugly. "That depends. What do you think I'm suggesting."

"If you're suggesting we make out, the answers no."

"No," Roy snorted, "that wasn't what I was suggesting. Hoping, maybe, but not suggesting."

"Then what?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Roy said. He moved closer to his subordinate so that his lips were gently brushing against the shell of Ed's ear. "I'm suggesting," he whispered, "you drop your mask."

Ed pulled back sharply, rubbing his ear. He looked away and tried to hide a blush, hoping to (not) forget the shivers that ran down his spine at the contact. "I don't follow."

He did. Ed understood perfectly well what Roy was saying but to let himself hope like that, to think that something could be even remotely like what it was all those years ago… it would break him to have that crushed all over again.

"I'm merely asking you to relax a little," Roy explained. "You know, talk to me casually, without anything getting in the way. Unbutton a few buttons on your jacket-"

"Pervert," Ed mumbled under his breath.

"-play some cards. Don't freak out as much and for love of alchemy, get that damned scowl of your face."

"S-Scowl?" Ed stuttered, blinking up at Roy. "What?"

"You don't feel it?" Roy asked incredulously.

"…no."

Roy grabbed onto the blonde's real hand and lifted it up to lightly trace over Ed's expressions.

As Roy moved his hand (and, in turn, moving Ed's hand), Ed felt his fingertips brush faintly over deeply furrowed eyebrows and a crinkled forehead. He felt a scrunched up nose and the ends of lips that were pulled down into an intense frown, the middle of the lips mashed together in an angry line.

"This scowl," Roy told his softly.

Ed let his hand slip from Roy's grasp. "Oh," he murmured quietly. Now aware of his expression he brought his hands to his face and rubbed the palms over its entirety, as though physically wiping away the glower.

"Better?" Ed asked once the expression had melted away completely, leaving a shy, hesitant one in its place.

"Better."

For some reason, Ed felt naked, vulnerable, and he realized just how much of a mask he really wore. And, even though he knew the pain it brought him, a part of him wanted desperately to slip back into it. Forget the world and shove his soul back into the box it had occupied the last two years.

Another part of him, the side that had been tucked safely under the mask, felt like grinning, flying. Made him want to grab onto the collar of Roy's uniform, pull him down to his height and kiss the man. Ignore everything around him and just focus on the one person he had missed the most.

Instead, Ed settled for clearing his throat awkwardly. "So…" he began uncomfortably. "You said something about cards…?"

* * *

"And then the idiot turned around and said 'its that a bit rough? Its just an accident!' "

The room erupted into laughter, all of it directed at Havoc. The blonde man huffed and looked away, resisting the urge to pout.

"Have you no brains, lad?" a heavily accented man on Havoc's right asked. "What were you thinking?"

"What I'd like to know is how he's still breathing," another said through his laughter.

"Are you sure General Elric didn't punch him?"

"Ha, he definitely looked like he wanted to," one of three majors (a balding man from the outskirts of Drachma) that had seen the earlier situation said.

As the chuckling died down one of the younger officers called out, "Why the hell did you say that?"

"Well…" with all eyes fixed on him, Havoc knew that they would laugh at him if he didn't lie. "I know…" to save face or to defend a friend? That was the question. Havoc took a deep steading breath and said truthfully, "I had a feeling he wouldn't have hurt me… I mean, I wasn't doing anything wrong. He wouldn't be _that _unreasonable."

And laugh they did. Havoc suspected a few of them were close to tears.

The laughter died down and someone asked the question that seemed to be on everybody's lips. "How are you not dead?"

Just as he Havoc opened his mouth to reply, the compartment door swung open. "Is Captain Jean Havoc here?" called out a panicking Corporal.

"Who's asking?" Havoc asked.

"Brigadier General Elric has requested your presence, sir."

For the third time that hour, the room broke into hysterics.

"What a surprise," Havoc heard someone say under his or her breath.

He ignored them and rose from his seat, wondering what exactly the blonde shrimp would want now. Just as he was making his way out of the room, he heard the balding Major shout at his back, "Nice knowing you, kid!" The sentence was followed by loud, obnoxious laughter.

The Corporal shot him a sympathetic look, "Come on then," he said gently, as though speaking to someone he was leading to heart surgery. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Maria Ross hated trains.

She wasn't sure what it was about them, but she didn't trust them. Some people didn't like horses or heights. Hell, she had even heard of people being scared of women (and, after meeting people like General Armstrong and that Izumi lady, she agreed with them) but she had never heard of someone hating trains as much as she did.

She had disliked them all her life, becoming sick just after ten minutes on one. Because of that, she had never travelled much, as a child or as an adult.

So, when she had heard she was to be picked for a mission at Eastern HQ, she had felt like crying.

"Shh," one of her new found friends, a rather sympathetic Sergeant Major, whispered in her ear as she rubbed circles into her tense back, "its going to be okay."

"I hate trains," she tried to wail but, seeing as her face was mushed up against the train's seat, it came out a jumbled, "I wait lanes."

"I know you do," the girl said, obviously able to understand her. "Just hang in there."

Ross's only response was to groan. She wondered if her face was coloured green. It must have been at how sick she felt.

"Its only a couple of days," she continued. Ross sensed the girl may have believed she was being calming but that statement only made her want to throw herself out of the nearest carriage door.

"I wait lanes," she repeated, closing her eyes and trying to burrow her head even further into the seat. "I weally do."

"Of course yo-"

The girl was cut off as a frantic looking Corporal burst into the large compartment (AN: you know how in 'The Man with a Mechanical Arm' Ed and Al are in those huge, public compartments? Think of the lower soldier's compartments like those and Ed and Roy's like General Hakuro's) and shouted out a breathy, "Where's Second Lieutenant Maria Ross?"

The whole room fell silent. Several people she knew looked towards her limp body and winced.

The Sergeant Major's, whose hands had stopped their soothing rubbing, eyes darted from Ross to the Corporal and back again. "Um, she's here," the girl called out timidly.

The man seemed to deflate with relief. He rushed from the doorframe, the whole of the compartment's population watching, to where she lay sprawled out on the train's seat. "Thank the gods," he murmured before continuing on in a louder, more professional voice. "Brigadier General Elric requests your presence, m'am."

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath. She could feel multiple pairs of sympathetic eyes focused on her and, in her sick and fear induced state, she hated it. What was there to be scared of?

"Damn kid," she mumbled into the seat, "is he trying to kill me?"

Thankfully, only the Sergeant Major seemed to realise she was speaking. "Did you say something, Lieutenant?" she asked. Ross could hear the fear in her voice. The girl, having only heard terrified rumours of the blonde shrimp, must have been just as scared as any of the other yellow-bellied cowards on that train. Ross didn't blame her.

Mutely, she shook her head and tried to sit up. A wave of irrational dizziness washed over her and she collapsed, face-first, back into the seat.

"I don't think she can move on her own," she heard the girl tell the Corporal. "Is it okay if I come with her?"

"I suppose so…"

"Great," the Sergeant Major tried to chirp but her answer fooled no one. Everyone heard the way the word quivered and cracked with fear. But no one volunteered to take the girl's place.

An arm was looped around her shoulders and this time when she was pulled into an upright position, she didn't feel like loosing her lunch.

"It's going to be alright," the girl whispered in her ear, "I'm sure the General just wants to… ask you something."

Ross didn't argue and let herself be pulled down the hallway. Overwhelmed by pain and sickness, she completely missed Jean Havoc walking beside the Corporal, following them down the train. Each step she took made her feel worse, like someone was playing ping pong with her brain.

She really did hate trains.

* * *

"Cards…" Havoc said incredulously. "You brought us here to play… _cards."_

Ed offered him a hesitant smile, "um… yes?"

"_Why?"_

"I-It was Roy's idea…"

Havoc turned to face his dark-haired boss. "It was your idea, huh?" he said, feeling strangely like Hawkeye. "What wer-" he started. Suddenly, he frowned and asked Ed, "Roy? Since when do you call the chief by his first name?"

'Roy' answered for the other alchemist, "since there's no higher ups on board. Besides me and Ed, the highest ranks are Majors."

"But… cards?" Havoc just couldn't get over it. "Everybody thinks you called me hear to drink my blood or crunch my bones to make bread but really all we're going to be doing is playing some cards!"

"Would you rather go back?" Mustang asked. "Back to hard plastic seats and bland rations?"

Havoc took one look at the plush, fabric laced seats and the sugar coated pastry Ed clutched in one hand and promptly sat down.

"That's what I thought…"

Across from the three men, Ross gave a large snore. Unlike Havoc, she didn't stop to question when Ed offered her a dose of medicine to help with the nausea and quickly feel into a thankful sleep.

"So," Ed started, "what are we going to play first?"

* * *

Did you notice that, while everyone else is shaking in their boots, both Ross and Havoc called Ed a blonde shrimp? Sorry Ed but you are one… *ducks automail fist*

This chapter is a bit longer than others because if it wasn't, it would ridiculously short. Like Ed *snort* You know, when I first watched Fullmetal I thought these short jokes would get less funny with time but I was _so _wrong.

Reviews?


	9. Chapter 9

*twitchtwitch* Why am I updating so fast? I don't understand… I can't stop writing. Ugh! Its pissing me off!

*sigh* so, because of this freakish updating sickness I have, you guys get another chapter. Geez, if I keep this up I'll have written more in a week than in the three or so months since I started this thing.

Oh, and if you wonder about how I write Ed in this, I picture General Elric and Ed as two different people. (okay, I totally just made my self sound insane…) Kind of like how Ed has his 'Hero of the People' attitude but also has his 'just Ed' one. Like that accept instead of a Hero, his other attitude is an ass that everyone hates… *scratches head awkwardly* Yeah…

**I can't remember if I said this in the other chapter, but Ed is 23 in this. Al is 22 but because of the sickness looks like a hell of a lot younger than he really is. What happened in those years will be (probably) explained in later chapters.**

And I can't think of any lyrics to go with this chapter. If any of you guys have some, gimme a shout.

* * *

It was strange, Ed thought happily as he weaved through the crowd soldiers, without the forever present scowl and the mess-with-me-and-die attitude, no one panicked.

They had been on the train roughly 8 hours. The three men (that being Ed, Roy and Havoc) had spent the time alternating between playing multiple card games, stuffing their face with the food supplied, poking fun at each other and sleeping. It had been the happiest Ed had felt in, well, years.

And then he had realised he'd left the outline for their mission with Johnson… on the other side of the train.

Everyone else on the compartment had volunteered to fetch it for him, even Ross when she had woken up. ('I'm cured!' she had shouted when she awoke, feeling perfectly normal. 'Thank you, Ed, thank you, thank you, thank you!') But Ed had turned down all of their offers; stubbornly saying he had to stop being such a coward and face everyone head on.

Well, that's what he had told them but, really, the real reason he needing to go himself had more to do with his automail then any petty declaration of honour. As it turned out, because of his prolonged hours spent at his desk, some of the joints in his automail had began to weaken, even going as far as being needed to be replaced entirely. And Ed didn't have money to waste on those kinds of preventable things.

Well… a part of it had to do with the fact that he couldn't afford new gears but a part of it had to do with the fact that his best (girl) friend terrified him and would, no doubt, try and hack him to pieces should his automail break.

Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.

But now that he had left the sanctuary his compartment provided he was actually kind of glad he'd left. He'd shed his mask – he still couldn't believe he hadn't known he was wearing it – and changed his hair from his what had become custom ponytail to his old braid. The familiar weight bouncing against his lower back (although the fact that it almost reached his waist was _not _familiar in the slightest) was reassuring, along with the curses and swears that managed to slip through his unguarded lips each time someone bumped him. In fact, with a carefree smile, his new hairstyle and his uniform rumpled and unbuttoned like everyone else's, no one flinched. No one panicked. The crowd didn't part like the Red Sea. No one even spared him a second glance

It was nice… oddly comforting.

"Shove it, shrimp," someone hissed into his ear, followed by a sharp elbow to his ribs. In that part of the train the hallways were much smaller, making the crowd seem bigger and the officers ruder. Grunting, Ed shoved the soldier right back and tried to wedge himself in a gap under the guy's arm. "Hey, you little ass," the guy snapped, trying to push past in the other direction. "Have a little respect!"

"A little respect? What a jerk," Ed mumbled angrily under his breath. If only that guy knew who he was… Ed was almost tempted to pull out his General Elric personal and scare this guy to tears. Almost.

He ducked under the man's forearm and edged his way out of hallway. It was times like this he was glad he was so sho-

Thump!

"Owww," he whined, "my head…"

"Oh, gosh," a panicking voice called out, "I'm so sorry! Are you okay, miss?"

Ed let out a pained whimpered as he rubbed his forehead repeatedly; the place the door had collided with throbbing.

"I didn't mean to… I didn't know you were standing there!" The voice paused and, when Ed gave no reply, continued, "Miss?"

"Its okay," Ed choked out through tightly clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

"Oh, thank god," the man sighed in relief. "Like I said, I'm _really _so-"

When Ed finally looked up, he was met with the sight of deep blue eyes. "Johnson?" he asked, cutting the man off.

Sucking in a deep breath (why did everybody do that when they saw him?), his subordinate stuttered out a surprised, "G-General?"

The two stood there for what felt like hours but must have only been seconds, blinking up at each other; Ed in confusion and Johnson in fear. He had, after all, almost knocked his demon boss unconscious.

"Did you just call me 'miss?'" Ed finally asked.

"I-what, um, no, I mean, yes but I didn't-"

"-know it was me," Ed finished for him. He shot the man a reassuring smile. "Must have been the hair, right?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"Hey, Regan!" was heard from within the room Johnson had just exited. "Do you have any more beers left?"

"Err," Johnson looked from his boss to the room behind him, "now isn't a really good time…"

"But I'm thirsty now!"

"No… no, shut up, Bruno, shut _up_."

"Come on, man," a shaggy, sandy blonde head emerged from the room behind Johnson, a scraggily beard growing on the chin. The man, Bruno, was grinning as he lightly punched Johnson on the arm and said, "Don't make me drink the ration crap. I know you brought your own stuff."

"Beer?" Ed asked. As Johnson's eyes grew wide Ed suddenly understood the reason for his underling's panic.

"Yeah," Bruno beamed. "Regan smuggled some alcohol on b- mmh!"

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Johnson said quickly, his hand clamped tightly around his friends mouth. "Honestly, sir, I think the train's playing tricks on his mind."

"Mmh!" Bruno hummed through Johnson's hand, staring down at Ed with giant, terrified eyes. "Mmmh~!"

"Aha," Ed nodded, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "I heard train's do that to some people…"

"Of course. I'll just, um, go make him sit down. Dismissed, sir?"

Ed hid a grin and nodded again, "Dismissed, Sergeant."

He waited a moment for his two subordinates to move deeper in the room, not quiet out of hearing range, and called, "Don't get too cared away! If Mustang finds out, I'm not covering for you!" Before racing back down the way he came.

He got hallway down the train before realizing he had completely forgotten to get his paperwork. Swearing, he turned back around and, for the third time that day, tried not to get crushed under the sea of soldiers.

**EXTRA-** Conversation with Bruno and Johnson after Ed disappears down the train.

Inside the room, Bruno ripped the shorter man's hand of his mouth and hissed, "When the hell did General Psychopath develop a sense of humour?"

"I'd like to know when he developed a soul…"

"And… how come he didn't flip? You know, when I mentioned the beer?"

"I don't know… he didn't flip when I opened the door and almost knocked him out either."

"You _what?"_

"Or when I mistook him for a girl."

"Wait, _what?"_

"He didn't even yell. Actually, he," Johnson looked as though he'd just watched a troop of alien mutant ninjas try and take out the Fuhrer, "h-he _smiled _at me…"

"Regan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think this is a omen?"

"Of what? Death?"

"I was thinking more like… the apocalypse."

Gulping down screams of horror, the two practically collapsed back onto the train seats, gaining confused stares from their fellow soldiers.

"Bruno?"

"Yeah?"

"If I suddenly go missing in the middle of the night, will you tell my wife I love her?'

"Only if you tell my girlfriend the same thing."

"But…" Johnson scrunched his nose up as though trying to figure out an alchemical equation, "what if we _both _go missing?"

They sat in silence, thinking deeply about apocalypses, death, beer and men with long hair.

"Okay," Anderson announced from off to the side, "I think you guys need to slow down a bit on the alcohol."

* * *

I agree with Anderson *shakes head* What am I going to do with them?

Anyway, yay! Bruno reappears! Do you guys remember Bruno from the first chapter? No? Well, he was in it and I didn't just make him up on the spot. Him, Johnson and Anderson are all friends ^-^ Although Johnson is still the main character in that little trio.


	10. Chapter 10

*cringe* I hate this chapter but after going through it several times I couldn't think of anything to do to make it not… sucky.

NOTE: I've changed the one insane alchemist to a group of insane people (although not all alchemists). I mean, one alchemist is not enough to call all those troops to the East.

* * *

_And you ask me what I want this year  
And I try to make this kind and clear  
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days  
Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings  
And designer love and empty things  
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days_

-Better Days by Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

At Eastern HQ

"It's so well written. Honestly, it had me absolutely _enthralled! _Now, I personally don't care for fiction but the way the author writes just had me in tears-"

Perched on the edge of her desk chair, beaming freakishly up at her colleagues, Sheska continued to babble on about the dozen or so books she had read in past week. Nobody seemed to be paying her even the slightest amount of attention but she managed to overlook that as she went into detail about her favourite parts, authors, characters and techniques.

"And she used these little poems that were-"

"The troop of soldiers from Central are arriving in five minutes!"

The bold exclamation (from the office's interrupting secretary) was followed by the scraping of chairs pushed back on hard wood floors and excited murmurs from the people Sheska was talking to. Unbeknownst to her, her workmates rushed out the door, leaving her alone in office. She continued blabbering on until she finally realised no one was responding to her comments.

Pausing, she called out a shaky, "G-Guys?" It echoed around the empty room, leaving her wondering what exactly had happened. "Guys?" she tried again.

"Aren't you coming, Private?" her commanding officer asked, popping his head back through the door. "Everyone is gathering out the front to welcome the soldiers."

She gladly rushed to his side. "Of course, sir. Although... I don't really understand what the hype is all about."

Turning on his heel and making his way back down hallway, her boss, Colonel Sanders, said, "Most people know some of the soldiers coming. They're excited to see their old friends."

Sheska had always liked her boss. He was fair to the soldiers, treating the lower ranks almost like equals. He opened up to his subordinates and didn't think to conceal anything before he spoke. Because of that, she wasn't afraid to open her mouth and confess, "I don't really know anyone coming… I don't really have many friends."

Sanders sent her a warming smile and declared, without doubt, "Well then you're just going to have to make some! I'm sure there's someone from General Mustang and Brigadier General Elric's divisions that will want to be friends with such a beauti-"

"Wait," Sheska interrupted, "did you just say _Elric?"_

"Well, yeah, he's one of the commanding officers on the mission."

Sheska could feel a smile creeping upon her face. She fastened her pace and sped down the corridor, leaving her superior wondering where her sudden enthusiasm had come from. "Thank you, sir," she called over her shoulder. "Your support means a lot to me."

Running the rest of the way, she suddenly felt a lot more positive about the upcoming week.

* * *

"Ugh, my head feels like I've been hit by a train. Seriously, how the _hell _did you convince me to drink?"

"What can I say?" Havoc grinned, throwing an unsympathetic arm over Ross's sagging shoulders. "Everything feels better with booze." (1)

Opening up one glaring eye, Ross hissed, "I hate you, you jerk."

"Hey, now," Ed put in, "you were the one who decided to drink."

"You have no place to talk, midget," she shot back. "You were the one that transmuted that alcohol. I'm just as pissed at you."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Mustang said from behind them as they walked towards HQ. "Or see it," he added after a pause.

"And I'm going to pretend I don't know how to transmute alcohol."

"That would probably be smart."

From underneath Havoc's arm, Ross groaned loudly.

"ED!"

An unannounced, completely unexpected force collided with Ed and he suddenly found himself with an armful of bookworm. He was sent stumbling backwards and into Mustang, who, in an act of habit, wrapped his arms around Ed. The three were sent hurdling to the ground, Ed sandwiched in the middle.

"Oww..." he croaked.

"Oh, gosh," Sheska cried, leaping up and away from the two alchemists, "I wasn't thinking, I was just so glad to see you Ed!"

"Its okay, I'm fine." The nature of the conversation was similar enough to yesterday's to make a small, amused smile grow on his face.

"What about me?" Mustang choked out. "I'm certainly _not _fine."

"Oh, get over it, you big baby," Ed snapped. His words were harsh but his voice held nothing but fondness. "Although… we probably will need a hand up…"

* * *

"Isn't this exciting?"

Two women stood huddled against the glass of a second floor window, watching the entrance of Eastern HQ and the new band of soldiers that approached it.

"I know! It's a nice change from the usual boring officers we have to put up with. Its so great that all these soldiers get to come!"

"If by great you mean an insane, murdering group of terrorists then, sure, this is great," a third, clearly male, voice said.

"Oh, Colonel Sanders," one of the girls, a blonde Private, said, "I hadn't realised you were standing there."

"Make no mistake," he continued, acting as though she hadn't spoken, "this mission their on is not a thankful one. Nor is it one for the faint hearted."

"So the rumours are true," the second girl piped up. "There really is a group of-"

"-psychopathes hell-bent on the complete destruction of the military? Yes… That's what these soldiers are here to stop, so we all need to stay out of there way and let them do there job."

"Understood, sir!"

"Of course, sir!"

Joining them at the window, Colonel Sanders sighed and said, half to himself, "This isn't going to be easy on them…"

They stood in somber silence, overlooking the progress of men and women into their building. No one spoke but the quiet was not awkward. It felt, if anything, as though their silence was a sign of respect to those assigned to the daunting mission and the people that would suffer because of it.

The minutes flew by in silence until the blonde finally broke it. With the narrowing of her eyebrows and a confused scan of the grounds in front of them, she asked, "Is that… is that _Sheska?"_

* * *

It took both Sheska, Havoc and all of their strength (Ross stubbornly refusing not to move lest she puke all over their boots) to untangle the pile of mess that had become the two alchemist's limbs.

Five long, painful minutes later, they both stood, unraveled and finally apart.

"Thanks," Roy huffed, dusting the dirt that had gathered from his uniform. "He may be half the size of a normal human being but his automail still weighs a tonne."

"Well, we can't exactly stand there while our commanding officers lay in the sand, now can we?" Havoc said, shooting Ross a meaningful look.

"I know I already said this, but I am sorry. I was just so excited to see you again, Ed!"

"Its okay, Sheska," Ed told her, "I'm just as glad to have friends here as well. After so long…" looking down at his open, gloved palms, he blushed, his face taking on a small content smile, "its… comforting, really nice. Actually… I want you guys to know that… well, you mean a lot to me." (2)

"Oh, _Ed, _that's so swe-"

He coughed in a very loud, very fake manner and announced, "We need to move on! Come on everybody, I want to get to HQ _before _the Harvest Festival."

Striding determinedly past his friends (oh, gate, did he _seriously _just say that?) Ed noticed that many of the soldiers, much like the ones on the train, completely ignored him. Instead they walked casually towards HQ, taking their time and chatting away. As he walked, his friends jogging to catch up with him, he managed to tune into the conversation of the group beside him.

"What do you think this mission is about?"

"Sounds dangerous…"

"Why do they need so many soldiers?"

"I don't know. There has to be reason, right?

"Hey, look! Its Havoc!"

"Ha, idiot is still alive, then?"

"I thought the General was going rip out his heart or something."

"Sounds like something he would do… "

"Oh! Ross is with him!"

"Ross?"

"Second Lieutenant Maria Ross. She was in another carriage. Apparently the General called on her too."

"And she's alright?"

"Actually, she doesn't look too flash. Kind of… sick."

Another voice interrupted and Ed recognised it as his own subordinate; Anderson. "More like hung over."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Trust me, after that train ride, I would know. "

"But… why would she be hung over?"

Ed never got to hear the answer to that as Havoc suddenly called out, "Hey, boss!" the blonde man appeared at his side, his arms weighed down with luggage. "Here." He thrust a familiar battered suitcase into Ed's arms and said, "I'm not carrying your stuff. Geez, what have you got in there? Rocks?"

"Um, no, not rocks," Ed looked vaguely embarrassed, "…books."

"Books? _Books? _Did you even bring any clothes?"

"…not really." Before Havoc could open his mouth to reprimand him, he continued, "but I brought a couple of uniforms! And a hairbrush and a toothbrush!"

"What are we going to do with you?"

* * *

The week passed and the Central soldiers slowly began to feel more at home at Eastern Headquarters. The terrorist group stayed quiet, strangely quiet. All possible leads for the case dried up and the string of murders they were responsible for (all of them on military soldiers) stopped. In all the time they had been there, no one had died.

Ed relaxed with everyone else; far more than he ever had at Central. Whilst there were officers stationed in the East that held a higher rank than him, none of them held any real power. None of them could promote or demote him, not like the ones from Central could.

That week it was like… therapy. Better than therapy. It gave him a chance to recharge his batteries and his friends time to enjoy him. Every excuse he found, he would head to Roy's makeshift office and just… _be. _Sleep, read, fill out paperwork, talk, stare at the older man, _anything. _He felt as though he was walking around in a peaceful, dream-like state. Nothing felt real. But that was fine. Real was painful, real was hard, real was something worse than nightmares. If Ed could stay in this summer daze forever, he would.

But with his relaxation came laziness and sloppiness. He let his subordinates take days off, missed several paperwork deadlines, didn't punish soldiers who deserved it and even managed to prank Mustang. (Although, no one did work out how or who turned the man's black hair a bright, shocking pink.) He let himself go, forgetting anyone and everyone in his haste.

Safe to say, none of his subordinates could work out what brought on his sudden change in mood. Taking extreme precautions, they tiptoed around their boss, paranoid that he would snap and break the nearest person's neck. Like a werewolf on a full moon.

But they weren't the only ones to notice.

It was on one lazy Tuesday afternoon that Ed found himself sprawled out on Mustang's couch, a happy smile playing at his lips and the older man's jacket covering him like a blanket. The two had been in that office since sun up, discussing everything from alchemy to automail.

A brisk knock pounded on the door, interrupting their current conversation on why other countries would never be as alchemically efficient as Amestris. Shooting Roy a confused look, Ed stood and approached the door. It swung open and, in its threshold, stood three very annoyed, very high-ranking officers.

"Brigadier General Elric," the closest man said, "I think we need to talk." He eyed Mustang suspiciously. "Privately."

* * *

1) That's Havoc's logic. Still being underage, I wouldn't know.

2) Yes, completely OOC. Ed suddenly blurted it out, that's why he's embarrassed; he didn't mean to say it.


	11. Chapter 11

I think we've (my dear readers and myself) have gotten a bit too used to light hearted humour. This is a sad situation; the comedy was there only when the POV you were reading from was happy. That's why Johnson's parts are so much lighter and gentler than Ed's are. In these last few chapters, we have been joining Ed along his journey as he has slowly learning to open himself up. Now we, along with Ed and Roy, have to wake up from that summer dream.

That's my reasoning for the sudden switch in mood, in case any of you were wondering.

So far, RoyEd has been more implied rather than up in your face but… I couldn't resist! After this chapter the romance will be more mellow and subdued but for now, enjoy!

* * *

_And I want a moment to be real.  
Wanna touch things I don't feel.  
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.  
And how can the world want me to change.  
They're the ones that stay the same.  
They can't see me. Because I'm still here._

_They can't tell me who to be._  
_Cause I'm not what they see._  
_Yeah, the world is still sleepin while I keep on dreaming for me._  
_And their words are just whispers and lies that I'll never believe_

-I'm Still Here by Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

It was four days before Roy saw Ed again. After those Generals had pulled him from his office (his sight, his grip - away from the safety his arms could provide) the blonde hadn't come back. After four days filled with worry and near panic, Roy finally decided to forsake his pride and head over to Ed's dorm. He would find out what had happened and he would do whatever he could to make it right again.

The dorm was empty.

"You, Sergeant!" Roy snapped at a passing brown-haired soldier, a man he vaguely recognized as Ed's subordinate. "Where is General Elric?"

The man snapped to attention, his hand flying up to give him a near perfect salute. "Sir! The last time I saw him was in his office!"

"In the middle of the night?"

When the man nodded Roy span on his heel and stalked back the way he had come, desperate to get to the bottom of things.

The office door finally came into sight. Roy had to stop himself from pulling an Edward and slamming it open, flinging insults at the top of his lungs as he did so. Instead, he pushed it open and slipped inside, gently closing the door behind him.

"Fullmetal?" he called into the dark room. No response. Deeming it empty of any unwanted soldiers he called out again, "Ed?"

He half expected to be met with silence but a soft voice, tinged with something he couldn't quite recognize replied, "You know, for a while there I thought you weren't coming."

"I'll always come, Ed. Always."

There was no reply. Taking a chance, Roy took a few tentative steps forward, his hands waving about in front of him to stop him from slamming into anything. He felt ridiculous like that, fumbling in the dark like a blind man but he only stopped when his shin jerked against the edge of a leather bound coach with a loud, audible thud. The sound was followed by a click and the room was bathed in a small lamp's glow.

Edward came into view. The dim light exenterated deep lines, like those of the elderly and the sagging circles underneath his too-large eyes. His expression held no sadness, only a mutual nothingness that hurt more than it should have.

"Edward," Roy whispered softly, "what happened?"

"Nothing," he said instantly. "Only what I had coming."

"Edward…"

"Was there something you wanted, sir?" he gestured to the large (far too large for one man) stack of paperwork that sat innocently on his desk. "As you can see, I have a lot of work to do."

"So I'm back to being 'sir' again, am I?"

"Its only right I treat you with res-"

"Don't screw with me!" Roy shouted. His voice betrayed him, cracking horribly on the last word. He took a deep, steading breath and asked in a more rational tone, "Why must we do this, Edward?"

"I don't understand what you're asking me, sir."

"Back and forth like this," at that moment, he felt so much older than what he was. Dragged down by war and pain and hurt and heartbreak. "All I want to do is hold you and I can't and I'm not sure I ever will be able to and it's _killing me."_

There was no response.

"Please," he begged, "please, just let this stop. All of this, I just want it to stop."

"Who are you asking, Roy? Me or the world?"

"I don't know," he cried, back to shouting, "I don't know! I don't know anything… I thought I did but I don't. I never did, did I?"

"Wha-"

"About you," his voice was thick and hurried, racing like rushing storm water down a drain. The raw emotion he felt then and there almost sent him to his knees, welling in his chest and choking him, "about love. What is love? I thought it was supposed to be happiness and joy but the only thing this relationship has ever brought is pain and loss. Why? _Why? _Why can't people like us have our happily ever after, Ed? We have feelings too! We have to sit here, up in these big fancy officers and watch the world go by, watch everyone else get their happily ever after but we never do. Whenever we get close to it something always comes along and pulls the rug out from under us and we're left crying and screaming and wondering where the hell we went wrong."

He wanted to yell some more, rant and rave and fall to the floor, beating his fists into the carpet like a child until someone gave him what he wanted, until someone fixed the world because he sure as hell didn't know how to. But a cold metal hand pressed itself to his flushed cheek and he felt all the fight drain out of him.

"I don't know," Ed said truthfully. Giant understanding eyes stared up into his and the raw emotion left, replacing itself with something akin to shame. "I don't know either, Roy. All I can do is stand here and try and not drown. Isn't that the only thing all of us can do?"

"But why does it have to be like this?"

"I don't know," Ed repeated, "and I don't think either of us will ever find out."

"What did they do to you?" Roy asked. "Please, Ed, tell me."

Ed seemed hesitant to tell him, biting his lip and averting his eyes. Finally, he said, "They just reminded me of the position I'm in and what I have to lose."

Roy was skilled at reading between the lines, especially when it came to Ed. " They _threatened _you?"

"I wouldn't call it that…"

"Then what would you call it?"

"Like I said," Roy couldn't understand why Ed was smiling, smiling a bitter and ironic smile, "they just reminded me of what I have to lose and the power they have. It wasn't threatening. It was the wake up call I needed."

"So what's with all the paperwork, huh?" he looked above the shorter man's head to where the stack lay. "You wouldn't take that much on. You're not that dumb."

"That, among other things, is my punishment."

"Let me help you," Roy begged, "I could help do some of-"

"No." The word was firm and final, ringing through the room with force.

"You stupid selfless _bastard-"_

"Its late, sir," Ed removed his hand and stepped back. The smile disappeared, the hateful nothingness sliding back into place, "and I have work to do."

"I don't want to leave you."

"And I don't want to leave Al."

Ed turned around and walked back to his desk. For some reason, the sight of that turned back was almost enough to make Roy start shouting again. He gulped the sound down and said instead, "I love you."

His declare was met with an all-consuming silence.

* * *

The deaths had started back up again. Two men were found slumped against a local shop, their eyes wide and vacant; their uniforms splattered with blood, dirt and bullet holes.

Headquarters became a frantic mess. Soldiers began to realise the severity of this mission and buckled down, finally getting to work. The pressure, along with the circles under Ed's eyes, deepened, leaving Roy with a feeling of helplessness that was only able to compare to that of being in the rain.

The mission had been stretching on for three weeks when the death toll (not including those who had died before his and Ed's arrival) reached double digits. Of that number, eight of them had been Central soldiers. A sense of panic set in, constantly hovering at the back of everybody's mind. Eyes darted around, people began to fear the worst was around every corner and any sort of trust that was there before vanished.

The mission weighed down on everybody. Although Roy hadn't talked to Ed since 'that night', he often saw him in the halls or at meetings and, whenever he did, he noticed the slump in the blonde's shoulders. It was as if the mission wasn't just weighing down on his mind, but his soul as well.

He also began to notice the looks the higher ups would give Ed. Suspicion (and was that… satisfaction? Satisfaction gained from Ed's pain?) and power in their narrowed eyes, their stance strong as they walked by, their bodies stretched out to their full height. Ed must have noticed too (how could he not?) as his shoulders sagged further whenever they would pass. They would whisper things, horrid things, to him. Whatever they said must have had their desired affect because, after several weeks, they stopped. There was, after all, no point in telling him things Ed must have learnt to tell himself.

The death toll reached 16 before things got personal.

The next dead soldier the military found was one of Ed's.

* * *

Roy was confused. Something was going on, that much was obvious. Soldiers were running around faster than usual… in fact, most of them were leaving, being collected by their commanding officers and whisked off to who-knows-where.

Catching a passing officer by the collar, Roy demanded, "What's going on?"

"Its General Elric! He and a group of soldiers lead an attack against the terrorist group."

"What?" Roy hissed. "What's happened? Is he alright? When? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Yesterday, sir. Something went wrong, though, and people are being sent to try and get everybody out."

The blood drained out of Roy's face and for one brief second everything stopped. He didn't register the panicked footsteps of soldiers around him or the breathy calls from the man he still had in his grip. The only thing he could see was Ed's turned back as he left him, walking away. Away… to some place Roy couldn't follow.

Like Hughes.

No. Not like Hughes. Hughes was gone long before Roy had the chance to help but this… this he could do. This time, Roy wouldn't sit by. This time he would do something.

"Take me to him," Roy told the man. "Take me to General Elric."

* * *

Reviews help motivate me to write. Just thought you should know.


	12. Chapter 12

AU: I played around with this chapter for _hours. _Seriously, ages and ages. I'm still not happy with it but… whatever, it's the best its going to get.

NOTES ABOUT THE STORY: Just thought I'd mention, this story is kind of like my own little AU. By that, I mean that I'm using things from both Brotherhood and the original (mostly the original as I like that one more) and my timeline is all out of whack. This is on purpose. The homunculi still existed but their roles were a lot smaller and insignificant than in the animes. Some are dead but some are alive. And yes, this story does have a destination. I do know what I want to happen in later chapters. Hahahaha, I feel so evil. *insert manic laughter here*

If you haven't seen the original FMA you will probably not get a couple of these references.

Oh! And I know I have some run on sentences in here and some sentences with a lot of 'ands' (for example: the girl sat back and cried and cried and cried) but this is done on purpose. Not because I suck at grammar.

* * *

_Can't wake up in sweat, cause it ain't over yet,_  
_ Still dancing with your demons,_  
_ Victim of your own creation beyond the will to fight,_  
_ Where all that's wrong is right_  
_ where hate don't need a reason_  
_ Love is self-assassination_

-Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold

* * *

Everything felt like a dream.

He felt heavy and weighed down, the colours around him too bright yet not bright enough. He was flying through life, through reality, at the blink of an eye, experiencing everything with more sense and clarity then he had the first time. This was real but, at the same time, it was not. It was Ed's worse nightmare.

Again.

* * *

"What do you mean 'I can't you go in there?'" Roy thundered, taking out his building stress and panic on the nearest soldier. "What kind of authority do you have to tell me that?"

"Um, General Hakuro told me that, sir," the soldier said timidly. "I'm really sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it!"

'Well, there's nothing I can-"

"Move out the way, soldier!" With that order, Roy strode forward only to be blocked by the man's arms.

"No, sir, you can't-"

With one powerful punch, the soldier was shoved to the side and Roy was able to run past him and into the terrorist's hideout. Ed was in there and there was nothing strong enough to keep Roy from storming the place and prying the blonde from the criminals' hands.

According to the first soldier he had asked, the military had managed to get past the group's security. They now held control of their base and even managed to take the leader, a man by the name of Herod, (he didn't elaborate on what had happened to the rest of the group) into custody. The problem was that something had happened to General Elric and the soldier's he had taken with him. That was what the commotion was about; everyone was desperate to get them out. Out of what… Roy didn't know.

Running further into the building, Roy began to smell something. Something horrid and powerful and gruesome and shocking and far, far too familiar. It was the smell of blood; he would recognize it anywhere. The stench was overwhelming and clung to the walls, making his nose itch and his eyes water. Roy ran faster, faster, until, finally, he reached a large ballroom. With the coating of blood and grime covering the place, Roy knew this was where the action must have taken place.

Dozens of bodies covered the ground, blood seeping from their wounds and collecting into large, murky pools around them. The most surprising of it all was that only a handful of the fallen where wearing military uniforms. Standing on the threshold of a battleground all Roy could do was stare and wonder what the hell had happened.

* * *

He was running up a grassy hill, a basket full of food underneath one arm and his brother following behind him. He laughed, happily and fully and pulled the door open. His mother lay on the floor, still and unmoving. Several other memories preceded this one; his mother in her bed, holding onto both of their hands and asking for one last favor. A headstone and the knowledge that this was it, this was the end and if he didn't do something to help them, help him, help Al, help their mother, he would break and shatter into a million unfixable pieces because their mother was _gone _and she wasn't ever coming back and Ed didn't know how to handle that, didn't know what to do, didn't know how to keep going.

* * *

Soldiers ran around the room, shouting and following orders. In one corner, a couple dozen officers fought to contain a shaggy haired man. The man looked insane, covered in blood and screaming at the top of the lungs. This must have been the leader.

"You don't understand!" the man shrieked. "I had no choice! They were going to kill my Dan, my Dan! You don't understand, no one understands! My own group didn't understand so I, so I," the man's manic grin faltered for a second before coming back, wider and freakier than ever, "so I killed them! I had to! I killed them, ever last one of them!"

Roy looked back down to bodies and then back to the man. Back to the bodies. Back to the man and his blanket of blood. Back to the bodies. That sick bastard… he killed his own men? As a leader himself, Roy would _never _be able to forgive that.

* * *

"AL! No… no, NO, ALPHONSE!"

The sensation in his leg was a mere tingling at first, like that of a foot that's fallen asleep but it took only seconds to change into a pressurized ripping that sent racking waves of agony coursing his entire body.

"ALPHONSE! AL, ALPHONSE!"

The room was misting with smoke. Left over energy crackled through the room, lighting up parts of it and making the shadows dance and flicker. Blood coated the floor and a distance part of his mind told him that if he didn't do something soon he would bleed to death.

"This is all my fault. What have I done?"

The mist began to part and something sickly moved. There! It moved again. The room finally cleared but what lay across from him wasn't-

"!"

-human.

* * *

He stormed across the room, his gaze hard and his stance strong. Taking one look at his expression, soldiers scattered around him, desperate to get out of his way. Finally reaching the man, Roy demanded, "Are you Herod?"

The only answer he received was a beaming smile that scared Roy far more than he'd ever admit. One of the nearest soldiers, a Major nodded at him. Turning back to the man, Roy commanded, "Tell me where they are, the soldiers that were here yesterday. What did you do to them?"

* * *

"_Ed… ward…"_

"Yes, that's right," a greasy voice hushed, "that's Edward."

"_Ed… ward…"_

His mind whirled. Panic made his movements feel sluggish and awkward. He felt far too young, far too inexperienced. With all he'd been through, all he'd done, he never thought he'd have to deal with… with…

"_Ed… ward… big… brother…"_

…_this._

* * *

The man laughed. The sound grated on both his ears and his heart, pulling at his already frayed nerves. "You're all military," Herod spat, spraying the soldiers closest with blood. "You're all scum! You deserve to rot in hell. You all deserve to have your souls broken into pieces, your spirits and sanity crushed-"

"Shut up," Roy snapped, "just shut up and answer the damned question!"

"I wish you'd all die! I'll kill you. I'll kill you myself!"

* * *

It was raining. His coat and jacket were ripped, lying around him in pieces. Pieces, like his broken metal arm and brother. Someone was standing over him, their tanned, tattooed hand out stretched. In the background he could hear his brother screaming, crying, begging and he suddenly realised he was going to die.

* * *

He took a threatening step forward and raised his gloved hand high above his head, filled with the overwhelming urge to snap and just _end _the bastard. "Answer the question."

Herod flinched. He looked terrified, scared out of mind as he stared up at him with eyes filled with hate, distrust and a bubbling fear. Despite the power Roy held over him, he still hissed, "Why should I tell you anything, _dog?"_

"Oh, I'm a dog alright but I don't think you realise what kind of dog I am. You see, I'm a dog that's not afraid to play with fire. I don't mind getting burnt as long as I get what I want."

The man's eyes flickered from his glove to his watch as he whispered, "Flame…"

"Now," he took another step forward, "tell me. Where are the soldiers?"

The man sent him one last unnerving grin, raised a hand high above his head and pointed.

* * *

Winry was tied up. Her hands were suspended from the ceiling and her eyes were wide with panic and fear. Along with her screams muffled by a makeshift gag he could hear manic laughter and the sharpening of a butcher's knife. A man stepped out of the shadows and grinned. Even as the man leapt at him, chased him, swiped at him with the weapon clenched in his hand, he grinned. For the second time, Ed realised he was going to die.

* * *

The entire ceiling was covered in large, swirling… _thing. _Roy's first reaction was to call it a black hole but, as the Major explained to him, it was made using alchemy.

Ha, he shouldn't be surprised.

"What _is_ that?"

Herod's answer came immediately, rushed and frantic like Roy's desperate meltdown weeks previous. The only difference was that Herod's held a tinge of madness that made his skin crawl. "The people that came to me yesterday, they were soldiers. That means they've seen things a normal person would never hope to comprehend. Horrors unimaginable, correct? And like I said, I wanted to break all of you so _badly_… but then I wondered… what could I possible show you to do that?" his eyes darted around as though he honestly expected an answer. "Nothing could ever match up to what you've seen. So then… then, I thought to myself, I thought to myself… if someone has already seen horrors then why should I try and find knew ones?"

"What are you talking about?" Roy snapped. He was tired of listening to this clearly insane man's logic. He wanted answers. Now.

The man extended a finger. He curled it back and forth, urging Roy to move closer to him. Roy didn't. "I," the man began, acting as though he was spilling some great secret, "I showed them their own nightmares." The man pulled back and laughed and laughed and laughed.

* * *

A dozen or so fearful prisoners stared at him, stumbling back when he approached. They were scared. Scared of _him _and Ed felt sick to his stomach when he realised that they had every right to be. He was, after all, suppose to kill them. Behind him, his brother's blood seal was held at gunpoint, the people responsible ordering him to sacrifice the prisoner's lives. Torn, he stared down at his hands and resisted the urge to cry. If he killed these people then he might break and lose that little bit of sanity he had left but if he didn't not only would Al be taken away from the body he deserved _again _but these people would kill him. Al would die and Ed would be left to face the cold, condemning world by himself. Taking a deep, deciding breath, Ed forced his palms together, shot Al one last look and wondered that if there really were a god, would he forgive him for all of the sins he had committed?

* * *

"What is he talking about?" Roy asked when it was clear he would get nothing more out of the man.

"Well, you see, sir," one of the watching soldiers began, fearful Roy would pull his gloves out again and start clicking, "what he means is he's made some kind of alchemical trap. We think it's designed to replicate a person's memories and force them to experience them."

"Over and over again!" the man choked out between pearls of laughter.

"A person's… memories?"

"Only their worst."

Feeling decidedly sick, Roy said, "And have you managed to get anybody out?"

"Only a couple of lower ranking soldiers."

"And…" Roy wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, "how long have they been in this… trap."

* * *

A large figure, covered entirely in a rock hard substance prattled on about greed and destruction, owning the world and ruling over it with an iron fist. Ed's hands moved on their own and the next moment the man was curling up on the ground, his shield gone and his eyes vacant. Ed looked down at his mismatched hands, soaked all over with someone else's blood. They were hands of a murderer; hands of a cold-blooded killer. With all the self-hate and disgust he felt, Ed fell to his knees and screamed.

* * *

With all the finality of a high court judge, the man answered, "almost 36 hours, sir."

* * *

Your thoughts?


	13. Chapter 13

I have no excuse for the late update.

But this chapter is much, much longer than it was suppose to be! That makes up for the late update *wince* I guess…

So someone mentioned that they wanted to see Ed's _new _memories, rather than ones we already know of from the anime. So here you go. I totally just used that as an excuse to write a flashback.

*grins* Enjoy! And don't forget to drop a review.

* * *

Write some equations. Check an alchemy book. Drink some coffee. More equations. More coffee. Yell at someone. Drink more coffee. Yell at someone because he has drunk all of the coffee. Write some more equations. Read his notes. Take re-filled coffee from shaking soldier. Drink coffee. Write more equations.

Seconds bleed into minutes and minutes bleed into hours. Around him, soldiers and alchemists worked to the best of their abilities, scribbling notes and murmuring alchemical nonsense to each other, trying, trying, trying to figure out what was clearly beyond them.

Roy may hate that bastard, but he had to admit that Herod knew what he was doing. The alchemy he was using… Roy was clearly out his depth. It was the work of a clear genius – not Elric genius but genius none-the-less - and yet the transmutation… it was wrong, twisted somehow. The angles and symbols – heck, even the energy it ran off, didn't match up. This circle, it should have backfired on Herod, should have injured him, maimed him, _killed _him. It should, at the very least, have crackled and fizzed out, short-circuiting somewhere along the way. It shouldn't have even been able to work.

_But it did._

Yes, it did. And now Ed was gone.

No, Roy reminded himself firmly, not gone. Hurting, breaking, but not gone. He wasn't gone, not yet. Ed would come back. He would. Roy wasn't in denial.

Really.

Picking up his coffee, Roy downed the rest of it in one, grateful gulp. He could do this. He could.

He picked his pen back up, took a deep, calming breath and began to write.

Equation. Equation. Transmutation circle. Check his alchemy book. Flick through his notes. Take some more notes. Write some more equations.

Roy could do this.

Really.

* * *

The house was silent, frighteningly so. The quiet alarmed Ed, jarred him (but not scared, never scared) caused something deep within him to growl to life. Something instinctual, something he thought that, now that he was out of the military, he was _past _but here it was, bubbling deep from within him, causing unwanted panic to rise and now he couldn't breath and he was choking and-

"Al?" he called into the dark, too dark, entry. His brother may not scare easily but he had confessed to hating the dark. It unnerved him, Al had said, reminded him of long, twisting tendrils and narrowed, purple eyes. "Al? You here, buddy?"

Ed flipped on the entry light before moving deeper in the house, biting at his lip as he peered nervously around every corner, half expecting someone to leap out at him and scare him half to death. Whether it would be the youngest Elric, wearing a grin as he spewed some joking nonsense, or a past enemy, wielding a weapon and dripping blood, Ed didn't know but a part of him just wanted to find out and stop this damned unknowning, stop his mind from jumping from scenario to scenario, picturing the worst.

When he finally reached the kitchen, the hanging door half open – Al _never _forgot to close the door – his mind stalled for a brief second, shutting down in complete shock.

There, sprawled motionless on the kitchen floor, lay Alphonse.

_Just like his mother._

With a scream that sounded far too familiar to the one he gave that day – that day, it was soft chestnut curls that surrounded the body's head like a halo, not chopped, murky gold hair. That day it was Ed's innocence that was taken, rather than his dreams. That day that Ed would never let himself forget - Ed launched himself at his brother and began to panic.

* * *

"General…" Havoc began carefully, eyeing his boss's movements as though the man would snap and attack at any moment. Havoc supposed that with sunken in eyes, hair hanging limply around his face and the rough hint of stubble adorning his chin, Roy looked like he might. "You can't keep doing this."

A grunt was all Roy offered in response, half buried in books and empty coffee mugs, eyes still firmly fixed on a page of notes.

"I mean it…" the blonde lieutenant paused for a moment, as though wondering if the shorter man would court martial him for this conversation, friend or not. "You can't keep this up."

Mustang inclined his head forward slightly, dipping it in a way that was Havoc guessed was supposed to be a nod.

"Mustang. I know you miss him… we all do but you can't kill yourself trying to bring him back."

A second grunt. Roy reached out and turned a page in his book.

"Boss? Are you even listening to me?"

A third grunt.

Havoc was beginning to get faintly annoyed.

"You," he leaned in and snatched the book of notes away, giving an inward shout of triumph when Roy's eyes finally landed on him, "need to stop this."

Now that he was finally paying attention, he did not like what his subordinate what was saying. "No," Roy said bluntly, staring at Havoc with black, hallowed eyes. He stretched out his hand and attempting to take the book back.

"Oh no, you don't," Havoc took a step back, lifting the book further away from Roy's reach. "Boss, you need to stop."

"Ed is depending on me to-"

"Ed is depending on you to keep yourself alive. Seriously, your falling apart," Havoc eyed his boss's phasic with a frown. "When was the last time you ate? Slept? Had a shower?"

Roy made another swipe for his notes. Havoc lifted the book even higher. "There's no time for it," he grumbled. "I need to get this done."

"There are at least a dozen other alchemists working on this case. Trust me, there's time."

"No good alchemists at least." Several people in hearing distance looked very much like they disagreed. Ignoring them, Roy frowned down at his books. "Even _I'm_ not good enough to solve this…"

Havoc snorted. "Because that's not arrogant at all… Look, you can study as much as you want; I can't stop that. Just take a couple of hours off."

"No."

"Boss, plea-"

"No, Lieutenant." Mustang titled his chin back, somehow managing to stare at Havoc down the end of his nose even when sitting down. "I need to do this."

"You can't-"

"Yes, I can." Mustang stood up and took his book back, leveling Havoc with a stern gaze. He paused for a moment, just long enough for his message, his obvious superiority, to sink in before flicking his book open to its previous page and sitting back down. "That will be all, Lieutenant. You can go now."

"Gen-"

"That will be _all, _Lieutenant."

With nothing more to say, Havoc gave Roy one last pitying look and walked away.

* * *

White. That was all Edward could see.

White walls, white floors, white uniforms. Too-white smiles offering bitter words of comfort and sympathy (pity) that Ed did not want, did not need. Go waste them on someone who actually cares.

White shoes, white doors. Even his brother's face was white, pulled back and drawn, devoid of any colour – any _life – _propped up on (white) pillows.

And, huddled against an uncomfortable plastic chair, Edward sat in red. It felt as though his guilt as visible as his coat; smeared over his entirety like blood. It was _his _fault his brother was here, _his _fault his brother wasn't strong enough to fight this disease, _his_ fault his brother had to deal with this. It should have been Ed in that bed. But it wasn't. And now the doctors were telling him Al was dying.

_His fault, his fault, __**his fault.**_

Light was beginning to fall outside the window, ushering in cold, welcoming blackness. Ed glanced at the clock. It was getting late…

And Al still hadn't woken up.

* * *

"So…?" Ross pressed, sliding up behind Havoc. "How'd it go?"

Havoc didn't turn around. His shoulders were slumped and his posture was tired, as though his body could no longer find the strength to support him. The blond shook his head at his colleague and said, "No dice."

"What do you mean 'no dice?'"

Havoc sighed. "I couldn't get him to take even a little bit of time off. Not even an hour. Not even _half _an hour."

"Did you threaten him?" Ross asked, unabashed even at the idea of threatening such a high-ranking man. "He's used to dealing with Hawkeye so he may listen if you did."

"I tried to… he kind of beat me to the punch."

Ross winced, "He's taking it that bad, huh?"

"Seems like it."

Ross didn't say anything for a long while, staring down the hall with a pensive look. People milled around them, letting the two sink into unawareness, their conversation sheltered from preoccupied ears.

"They really are alike, aren't they?" she finally said.

"Who?"

"Ed and the General."

They stood, side by side, staring at the desk Roy had built his nest on. Currently, he was digging –quite literally – through a stack of papers, swearing under his breath as he searched. Books tumbled to the floor, pencils rolling off in their wake. Empty mugs were shoved to the side and, when one full cup was knocked over and onto a miniature mountain of notes, Roy's swears became severely louder and more colourful. In fact, Havoc suspected his boss had learnt most of the curses from their blonde spitfire himself.

"Yeah…" Havoc murmured, half to himself, half to no one. "They really are."

* * *

_Time jump, 4 hours._

When Roy finally arrived at the hospital he was in a state of near panic. Bursting into the waiting room, his clothes rumpled and his eyes alert and terrified, he began firing questions off almost immediately, "What's wrong? What happened? Why didn't you call me? Are you alright? Oh god, _did someone die?" _His words were a jumbled mess, a string of words only distinguishable to those paying attention. He was feverish, wringing his hands together and pulling nervously at his fingers.

There was a long pause. Roy was panting (at the mention of Ed and a hospital he had leapt into a frenzy, only calming slightly when someone offered to drive him directly to the other alchemist), still standing in the doorway.

"Al collapsed earlier so I took him here," Ed said at last. His voice was deadened and flat. His eyes hadn't moved from their spot on the ground. "The doctors think he's not going to make it."

Roy's mind stuttered to a stop and he took a step backward as he mentally floundered, unable to process the sudden bombshell. "What…? You mean… he's… dying_?"_

Ed flinched, almost unnoticeably, and nodded.

"But… I…" it as all Roy could do not to shout, deny the claim and storm from the room. But he couldn't. Not when Ed was looking like that. Full of hunched shoulders and tense lines, Ed looked heartbroken and so very, very small. "How?"

"Same thing that got mum," the monotone voice replied. "It's a genetic thing but it shouldn't be this strong. Al… his body was too weak to fight this off and now…" Ed trailed off, unable to say the words.

When silence rained once more, Roy took several careful steps forward, as though anything sudden would cause his alchemist to snap and break and fall into a million unfixable pieces. When Roy finally reached Ed, he crouched in front of him and whispered, "Ed? You with me?"

Ed didn't look up.

"Everything will…" be _okay? _It wouldn't and saying anything different would be nothing but an insult. Roy swallowed and tried again. "We can work past this. Is there… is there a cure?"

There was no reply. Just as Roy was beginning to lose all hope, a voice, one far smaller than Roy was used to, spoke from underneath the veil of hair, "yes but… I can't afford it."

"I could-" Roy started.

"No." The word was hard and full of ice, no room for disagreement.

"But-"

"Elric's don't take charity."

"Even from family?" Roy felt rather insulted. "Ed, he's my little brother too."

Ed raised his head and assaulted Roy with piercing golden eyes. "I would do _anything _for him, you know that. I want to accept, you have no idea how much I do but he made me promise. He sat there and made me promise not to do anything drastic or take money from you or anyone we know. He knows exactly how much this will cost and he knows," Ed's voice wavered slightly, raising a desperate octave. Roy pretended not to notice. "He knows he's gunna – gunna-"

"Yeah…" Roy murmured. He reached out and took Ed's hands – real or not, skin or not, it did not matter - into his own. "But you have a job, don't you? You can get the money."

Ed fumbled with his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He shoved it into the taller man's hands and said, "I can't afford that. I… I can't. I don't even have a job and even if I rejoined the military I would still only be a major."

Roy looked down at paper. He felt his eyes widen. "That is… wow, just-"

"Impossible."

"No, just… extensive," Roy took another look at the paper and had to stop himself from swearing. "Not impossible."

"Get over yourself Mustang," Ed made a move to stand up. "Its over."

Roy pushed him back down. "Impossible for major, yes, but not for General."

"I told you I can't accept any-"

"That's not what I meant!" Okay, that was lie. "I mean…" faintly, Roy remembered flashes of flyers and posters, advertising the military and glamorizing life as a member of it. He remembered strict (terrifying) teachers and Hughes scowling face and the hate that bubbled at the sight of it. (1) He remembered old, faded dreams of achievement and good will, of wanting, wanting, _wanting _to do something right, to do something just.

'_I'm going to be a state alchemist.' _A young Roy had told his mother as he wiped the tears falling from her face. _'I'm going to be the perfect soldier and I'm going to protect the ones I love! I'll do whatever it takes!'_

"I have a different idea," Roy spoke without permission, the words tumbling from his mouth without his consent. Why was he saying this? Would… would it even work? "But will you go through with it?"

And, with as much hope and purpose Roy had used himself all those years ago, Ed said, "I'll do whatever it takes."

* * *

"General? General Mustang, sir…" a voice was murmuring in his ear. A hand was shaking his shoulder gently. "You need to wake up."

"Wha-" startled and aching, Roy sat up, blinking at the harsh lights that momentarily blinded his vision.

"You fell asleep, sir." Roy's eyes focused on a pair of blue ones. A soldier (a quick check to the uniform confirmed him to be a Sergeant) leaned over him, one hand holding the shoulder he had shook when awaking Roy. "You, er, you told me to wake you if fell asleep."

Had he? "Right, right," Roy sat up and stretched his aching muscles, rubbing a particularly saw spot on his back with the heel of his palm. With his other hand he wiped his face over, clearing it of any remaining sleep – oh, god, Roy looked down at the damp papers he had been resting on; had he been _drooling? _"Good work, Sergeant-" he paused. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

The man, looking to be in his late twenties, grinned at the question. "Sergeant Johnson, sir."

"Johnson?" Roy surveyed the man again. "Why does that sound familiar?"

The Sergeant smiled shyly at him (2), in no way put off by his forgetfulness. "I came over to your house to collect some papers a few weeks back. It was towards the end of that big storm we had, sir."

"Oh, yes!" Roy remembered the brunette standing awkwardly in his entry. Of him discovering Ed in his time of refuge and acting severely confused by the whole ordeal. Of Ed, once Johnson had left, staring at him with eyes far too tired and asking him why he was so hated. At first, Roy had felt nothing but anger towards the young soldier for pain he had caused Ed but, once he had cooled off and had time to step back and reevaluate the situation, he realised that, if he had to be mad at anyone, it should be himself for initiating the situation in the first place. The sergeant hadn't, and still didn't, seem like a bad person. Nervous and rather timid perhaps, but not someone Roy should dislike. So, Roy simply smiled and said, "You're one of Elric's men, aren't you?"

"Yes sir…" Johnson's gaze flickered from his shoes to the Mustang and back again. He was so _hesitant, _as though he expected Roy to snap and turn on him at any felt a pang as he realised that, with constant exposure to a certain bitch-faced (Roy winced even if it was becoming true) General, he had good reason to. "Do you know if the Brigadier General is coming back?"

"Of course he's coming back," Roy said firmly. "No doubt about it."

"Its just that the soldiers around here have been saying-"

"It doesn't matter what the soldiers around here have been saying," Roy stared up at Johnson, absolute certainty lacing his voice. "I'm the alchemist and I say he's coming back."

"Oh, that's, er, good," Roy wasn't sure if Johnson looked relieved or upset at the news. "I just…" the sergeant looked over to where Havoc and Ross were directing wayward soldiers, completely unaware at the conversation that was taking place, "when they saw that you were asleep, those two told me not to wake you. They don't even have the rank to back up such a claim." Johnson looked shocked, scandalized that someone would do such a thing. "They tried to make me," Johnson glanced around suspiciously and lowered his voice, leaning in so Roy could hear him properly. For a moment, he thought that the other man was about to confess to some kind of capitol offense. "They tried to make me disobey your orders, sir."

Roy pulled back and blinked. "Huh?" was his intelligent response.

Johnson nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so, sir."

Roy furrowed his eyebrows. "That's, um," He cut his sentence off. He couldn't say touching, not with Johnson looking as though he had just handed Roy a pair of criminals. "Thank you for notifying me soldier. That will be all for now."

Johnson nodded, shot one more look at Havoc and Ross, and scampered off.

Roy sighed and turned back to his notes, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

That sudden dream… why would he have it now of all times? Granted, he still felt guilty for convincing Ed to follow through with his plan but Ed had lain to rest Roy's regret long ago, reminding him firmly that Roy had basically saved Al's life whenever the taller man mentioned it.

And that dream, so vivid and accurate, the colours strong and clear, free from their usual disorientated blur… it was as though Roy had gone back and personally relived the whole thing.

Pausing, Roy looked down at his notes. Thoughts of alchemy began to swim and develop, turning other wheels and ideas somewhere in his head. Things he had never even began to consider flickered and he distantly wondered if this was what an epiphany felt like.

Maybe, Roy allowed himself to think, just maybe he could find a way out of this.

* * *

Ed watched as Roy marched away, his words churning through his mind.

He still felt guilty though, and still shamed at having to confess that he was to his partner. It was his burden, not Roy's. He shouldn't have to trouble Roy with his problems. (Every time such thoughts arose, either his brother or Roy would grasp him by the shoulders, stare him down and call him an idiot).

But maybe this plan would rectify that. Maybe, after all of this was over and Ed's happy ever after was in his reach once more, he could overcome his thoughts of blame and move on.

But not now. No, now there was work to do. Now, he had to keep Al alive. (again.)

Ed sat – in his red, red coat – and watched Roy walk away, confused and somewhat terrified of the feeling of dread forming somewhere deep inside him.

* * *

"Wrong hand. When you salute you need to use your right."

Ed huffed and lowered his left hand, rising his right as he did so. "Better?" he snapped.

"No. Raise it higher."

He yanked his hand higher.

"Too high."

"For goodness-"

"And your stance is wrong." Roy grasped Ed's real hand within his own and held it by the shorter man's side. "You need to be straight. Bring your feet together and throw out your chest. No-" Roy gently pushed Ed's shoulders back, bringing his chest out as he did so. "Yes, like that." He stepped back, surveying his work with a critical eye. "I think you may be getting the hang of this."

"No I'm not," Ed slumped and lowered his hand. "I'm never going to get this. Its pointless."

"Its _not _pointless. Al, remember?"

Ed sighed. "I know, I know, but _come on. _This isn't going to work." He gestured towards his leather pants and combat boots. "I'm just… I'm not military material. Fight material, maybe, but not soldier material."

"Then you need to _make _yourself into soldier material." He followed Ed's gaze – get your mind out of the gutter, Elric – and hummed thoughtfully. "We're going to need to get you a tailored uniform, though. Even a small won't fit you."

"_Hey! _What's that suppose to-

"Come on," cutting the midget off, Roy grabbed his car keys from the table by the door. "I know someone that owes me a favour, he'll be able to get us a discount."

Sighing once more (the feeling of dread eating steadily away at his stomach) Ed collected his coat and followed Roy out the door.

* * *

Straight back, stiff, stern. Show no emotion. Crisp, pressed lines running along flawless plains of blue. No room for crinkles, no room for mistakes. No swearing. No shouting. No laughing. Perfection. He had to be the very picture of perfection.

"Never let someone disobey one of your orders," Roy lectured, writing another point down on his makeshift blackboard. "_Never. _And don't let anybody get anything past you. That happens once and they think they can do it again and again until they lose all respect for you entirely. Respect is the key to success in the military. You have to make sure everybody below you respects you or your entire career is thrown to the dogs."

"How can I do that?" Ed asked, somewhat exasperated. "Before I quit I couldn't even get Privates to respect me and now I have to get _everybody _to?"

"Yes," he said this as though it was easy, as though Ed could just flick a switch and make his words reality. Ed hated the way the General was acting; it reminded him of his days as a Colonel. The days when he

Turning his back on Ed, Roy wrote down something else. "And that brings up another point; respecting commanding officers." Ed sighed heavily. "You must respect those above you. Or at least pretend to. Suck up to them, call in favours, make connections. Do whatever you can to get them to _see _you. That is the only way you can rise above the rest. The Higher Ups are only out for themselves. They will only promote a soldier if it benefits them."

Standing stock-still in the middle of their apartment, hand raised in a permanent salute (_it has to be perfect, _Mustang had said, _so practice, practice, practice) _Ed was beginning to lose hope. Yes, he needed to do this, Al needed him to do this; he didn't dispute that but this goal… it was impossible, hopeless. Him? Edward Elric? The perfect soldier? Dream on.

His eyes wandered to the recently transmuted blackboard. Its surface was covered in tiny, cramped handwriting, outlining everything from the correct way to button his uniform to the exact degrees his hand needed to be positioned in for a salute. On and on the notes went, going into impeccable detail on things that, really, shouldn't have been important.

_It is_, Mustang had said when he had begun to complain, _all of it is. You needed to know this._

So Ed, like a good little soldier, he shut up and listened. He was trying. He really was. But… the information just kept on coming…

What to say and what not to say to a commanding officer. The minimum and maximum hours he would have to work. The pay each rank receives. The correct way to fill in documents. The exact layout of Headquarters. The names of the most important Higher Ups and the connections they can offer. Military codes and procedures. Safety drills, terrorist attacks. How to handle talking to the Fuhrer. On and on…

"And remember, the Higher Ups _lie. _Constantly. Never trust what they say. Well… you can trust me," Roy smirked to himself, his back still to his inattentive pupil, "but that's it. Even those you've known for years can stab you in the back without so much as a second thought. Like I said before, stay useful. Always stay useful, that's the only way you can get them to keep you around." He paused and turned. "Do you understand, Major?"

Ed's nose wrinkled at name but he nodded none-the-less. "Yep."

"We've been through this, Ed." Ed winced, realizing his mistake. "Come on, once more." Roy straightened up and raised his voice, putting emphasis and power into the few syllables. "Do you understand, Major?"

"Yes sir!"

Mustang barely gave him enough time to blink before moving on to their next topic. "How to handle new recruits," he said, with a smile that was far, _far _brighter than it should have been.

It was all Ed could do not to groan.

* * *

"Okay, I know I said this was a good idea and all but," Ed swallowed roughly, "its not… its really, really not."

"Its fine."

"No," Ed sent Roy a panicked look. "No, its not."

"You'll do fine," Roy reassured.

"B-But what if I screw it up? What if someone calls me short and I freak out and lash out and _kill _one of Higher Ups? Or the, oh god, the _Fuhrer?" _Ed's tone was becoming increasing more hysteric. "What then, huh? _What then?"_

"Ed, its just a reinstatement meeting, you're not going to kill the Fuhrer."

"You don't know that!"

Ed watched, breath caught in his throat, hands shaking, as Roy took a deep calming breath and said, "If you kill the Fuhrer I'll send you a muffin basket."

"Your not helping!" Boarding on hyperventilation, Ed wandered what would happen if he passed out. "Your suppose to be calming, damnit!_"_

"Says who?"

"Roy!"

"Come on, Ed, you'll be fine." Roy continued on before Ed could open his mouth and throw up more of his feelings. "Just go," with a firm shove, Roy guided Ed to Fuhrer's door. "Meet and greet and for love of all that is good and merciful, remember what I taught you!"

Ed's knees most certainly were _not _shaking. "If I die, tell Al I love him." Taking a deep breath, as though he was going under and would not be submerging for a long, long time, Ed took hold of the door handle, opened it up and slipped inside.

* * *

The meeting went well; too well. Ed left the office several hours later, a familiar silver watch thumping in his pocket and directions to his newest office – office! He got his own _office – _running through his mind.

And so the rat race began.

* * *

1) In one of the Brotherhood OVAs, we see how Mustang and Hughes meet. They hated each other when they first met, with a passion. Ironically.

2) I picture Johnson idealizing Mustang, like Coulson and Steve. (okay, yeah, I'm an Avengers need, sue me). Really, Johnson is more adorable than any man has a right to be. *smiles dreamily*


End file.
